UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT    LOS  ANGELES 


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AN  ABRIDGED 
HISTORY  OF  GREEK  LITERATURE 


.^^^^ 


AN  ABRIDGED 


HISTORY  OF  GREEK  LITERATURE 


BY 
ALFRED    CROISET 

DEAN  OF  THE  FACULTY  OF  LETTERS  OF  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  PARIS 

AND 

MAURICE   CROISET 

PROFESSOR  OF  GREEK   LITERATURE  IN  THE   STATE  COLLEGE   OF  FRANCE 


A  UTHORIZED    TRANSLA  TION 

BY 

GEORGE   F.    HEFFELBOWER,   A.M. 

PROFESSOR   OF   GREEK   IN   CARROLL   COLLEGE 


Xcto  gork 
THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

LONDON:  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  Ltd. 

1904 

All  ri'jhts  reserved 

-41  706 


Copyright,  1904, 
By  the  MACMILLAX  COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.     Published  September,  1904. 


XortooaS  IBrcss 

J.  S.  Cushintr.v  Co.  —  B.-rwifk  vt  Sinitli  Co. 
Norwooil,  Mass.,  l'..S..^. 


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AUTHORS'   PREFACE 

This  Manual  is  not  a  work  of  erudition.  It  is  addressed  espe- 
cially to  students  in  the  secondary  schools,  and  to  readers  who  wish 
to  inform  themselves  quickly  as  to  the  essential  facts  of  Greek 
literature.  All  matters  of  controversy,  therefore,  all  questions  of 
authenticity,  all  enumerations  of  obscure  names  that  could  interest 
only  the  specialist,  have  been  omitted.  But  within  the  limits  im- 
posed by  the  needs  of  the  public  they  had  in  view,  the  authors  have 
remained  faithful  to  the  spirit  that  guided  them  in  their  earlier 
work.  They  have  wished  to  give  a  continuous  account,  not  a  series 
of  detached  studies  on  Greek  writers,  and  so  have  been  led  to  treat 
the  different  authors  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  historic  conti- 
nuity that  binds  them  one  to  another.  For  the  principal  character 
in  this  history  is  really  the  literary  life  of  Greece ;  and  its  develop- 
ment they  have  traced  from  the  beginning  down  to  the  time  when 
it  was  overshadowed  by  the  triumph  of  Christianity. 

The  great  writers  of  a  nation  are  those  who  most  successfully 
represent  the  national  genius  in  the  different  stages  of  its  evolution, 
those  by  whom  that  evolution  is  brought  about  and  made  manifest. 
Thus  a  great  writer  is  at  once  original  and  national ;  yet  this  duality 
involves  no  contradiction.  An  yEschylus,  a  Plato,  a  Demosthenes, 
may  have  his  individual  physiognomy  to  distinguish  him  from  his 
rivals  and  from  the  obscure  crowd  of  his  contemporaries ;  but  even 
the  most  original  of  writers  is  bound  to  his  time  by  all  the  fibres  of 
his  being.  The  language  he  speaks,  the  literary  form  in  which  he 
moulds  his  thought,  the  very  substance  of  his  ideas  and  opinions, 
are  given  him  with  his  birth.  Even  a  writer  at  issue  with  his 
l)eriod  depends  upon  it  for  his  antagonist.  Tradition  furnishes  him 
his  problems,  because  it  offers  him  solutions  that  he  cannot  accept, 
and  thereby  gives  his  thinking  its  direction  without  asking  his 
consent.  Except  for  the  Sophists,  Socrates  would  never  have  given 
us  the  philosophy  that  he  did.  Through  this  dependence  of  a 
writer  on  his  environment,  his  work  becomes  part  of  the  series  of 


vi  Authors'  Preface 

causes  and  effects  whicli  forms  the  basis  of  all  evolution.  His  pecu- 
liarities may  be  traceable  to  mere  accident,  to  things  of  chance,  or 
may,  at  least,  be  so  considered  from  the  point  of  view  of  literary 
history.  For  the  definite  causes  of  these  peculiarities  elude  us  and 
do  not  come  within  our  sphere.  But  in  evolution  as  a  whole  there 
is  no  place  for  accident.  A  sort  of  inherent  logic  in  the  evolutionary 
process  brings  an  age  of  reflection  to  succeed  an  age  of  poesy,  and 
causes  the  different  literary  forms  to  grow  distinct.  There  is  a 
natural  and  necessary  rhythm  of  destiny  by  which  opposing  ten- 
dencies and  opposing  efforts  call  each  other  into  being.  To  detach 
an  individual  from  the  collective,  nameless  background  against 
which  he  rests  is  to  make  his  personality  unintelligible.  So  in 
order  to  interpret  an  author,  one  must  continually  bring  him  back 
to  his  environment.  His  personal  originality,  far  from  seeming 
less,  comes  thus  to  show  its  character  more  clearly.  Our  artistic 
pleasure  in  him,  too,  becomes  keener ;  for  in  the  voice  of  the  indi- 
vidual we  hear  resounding  the  dim  harmonies  that  determine  its 
inherent  quality  and  richness.  In  short,  if  pleasure  becomes  noble 
when  we  perceive  its  cause,  we  ennoble  it  further  as  we  make  it 
more  intelligible.  Such  is  the  conception  of  literary  history  that 
has  directed  us  in  the  writing  of  this  Manual,  as  well  as  in  our 
History  of  Greek  Literature. 

The  same  idea  of  the  nature  of  history  has  led  us,  in  our  account 
of  the  literary  activity  of  Greece,  to  devote  some  space  to  Christian 
writers.  Hellenism,  in  fact,  existed  side  by  side  with  Christianity 
for  three  centuries  before  disappearing  to  make  room  for  the  new 
religion.  Hence  the  gradual  modification  which  is  an  integral  part 
of  its  history.  One  can  understand  neither  the  last  pagan  nor  the 
first  Christian  writers  if  one  separates  arbitrarily  the  two  currents 
that  ran  so  long  beside  each  other  and  eventually  merged. 

This  volume,  already  burdened  with  material,  would  have  be- 
come much  too  bulky  had  we  yielded  to  the  temptation  to  treat  the 
different  writers  by  giving  considerable  extracts  from  their  works ; 
and  so  Ave  have  had  to  deprive  ourselves  of  the  pleasure  of  making 
it  an  anthology.  In  general,  we  have  employed  citations  only  as 
they  were  necessary  for  the  proof  of  statements.  If  we  have  occa- 
sionally broken  this  rule,  we  have  done  so  to  favor  certain  writers 
whose  works  are  not  so  easily  accessible  as  those  properly  called 
classic. 


Authors'  Preface  vii 

We  often  hear  it  repeated  that  Greek  is  on  the  decline  as  an 
element  of  secondary  education.  The  statement  is  far  from  proved. 
There  has  really  been  no  epoch  when  artists,  poets,  and  people  of 
culture  in  general  were  so  acutely  sensible  as  now  of  the  beauty 
of  Greek  art  in  all  its  forms ;  and  our  object  will  be  fully  attained 
if  we  help  in  some  measure  to  increase  among  the  youth  of  our 
schools  and  among  the  public  an  intelligent  appreciation  of  Greek 
thinking,  —  the  most  graceful  and  untrammelled  that  the  world  has 
ever  known. 


TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE 

The  good  name  enjoyed  in  Europe  and  in  this  country  by  the  five 
volumes  of  MM.  A.  and  M.  Croiset's  Histoire  de  la  literature  grecque, 
and  the  demand  of  English  students  for  a  concise,  well-written, 
scholarly  manual  on  the  subject,  trustworthy  in  criticism,  and  free 
from  extraneous  matter,  constitute  a  sufficient  reason  for  translating 
the  abridgment  of  that  work  which  the  authors  published  in  the 
year  1900.  It  is  hoped  that  the  new  volume  may  contribute  in  this 
country  to  the  extension  of  popular  acquaintance  with  that  splendid 
literature  whose  beauties  are  so  universally  known  even  among  the 
middle  classes  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic. 

The  innate  quality  of  dignified  French  style  is  brilliance ;  while 
that  of  even  the  most  polished  English  style  is  majesty.  The 
difference  is  fundamental,  extending  not  simply  to  the  dress,  but 
to  the  cast,  the  substance,  the  form  and  features  of  the  thought. 
It  makes  the  literature  of  either  people  seem  less  attractive  to  the 
other  than  its  own.  Hence  a  translator  cannot  rest  content  with 
having  expressed  the  thought  of  the  original  in  the  idiom  of  his 
own  tongue.  His  work  yet  needs  completion.  The  original  literary 
finish,  even  if  it  could  be  reproduced,  would  seem  unnatural  and 
foreign.  The  translation  must  be  given  a  new  dress.  How  well 
the  princi})le  has  been  remembered  the  public  must  be  left  to 
judge ;  but  its  enunciation  will  show  that  it  has  not  been  wholly 
overlooked.  The  numerous,  though  delicate,  changes  made,  spring 
from  no  thought  of  casting  reflection  on  the  authors'  style,  which 
is  xmiversally  commended,  but  from  the  desire  of  rendering  the 
translation  acceptable  to  the  new  public  to  which  it  is  addressed. 

A  series  of  more  radical  changes  has  given  a  different  general 
character  to  the  references  in  the  foot-notes.  Of  course  an  English 
work  cannot  aim  to  refer  largely  to  articles  easily  accessible  in 
French.  ^lany  references  have  been  dropped,  accordingly,  and 
their  places  taken,  if  at  all,  by  references  to  works  in  English  and 
German.     Our  classical  students  are  coniinp:  more  and  more  to  read 


X  Translator  s  Preface  j» 

both  German  and  French;   and  it  is  felt  that  their  needs  should 
dictate  the  selection  of  the  references. 

The  translator  heartily  in/vites  a(l^tio»s  to  the  number  of  refer- 
ences that  have  been  given ;  and  in  general  any  suggestions  looking 
to  the  improvement  of  the  work,  Histlianks  are  due  to  numerous 
American  scholars  for  their  generous  encouragement  and  counsel ; 
to  the  authors  for  the  reading  of  the  manuscript  before  it  went  to 
press ;  and  to  Mr,  Shirley  W,  Smith,  formerly  instructor  in  English 
at  the  University  of  Michigan,  for  the  wholesome,  careful  sugges- 
tions in  matters  of  style  which  he  has  so  kindly  tendered  from  the 
beginning. 

G,  F.  H. 

Waukesha,  Wisconsin,  March,  1904, 


TABLE   OF   CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     Origins 1 

II.  Beginnings    of    Heroic    Poetry.      Homer    and    the     Ho- 

MERIDES    ...........  8 

III.  The  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey 18 

IV.  The  Cyclic  Poets  and  the  Rhapsodists        ....  49 
V.  Hesiod  and  the  Hesiodic  Poetry           .....  60 

VI.     Lyric  Poetry  :    General  Features 82 

VII.     Elegiac  and  Iambic  Poetry 93 

VIII.     Melic  Poetry Ill 

IX.  Beginnings  of  Philosophy  and  History  :   Prose           .        .  150 

•  X.  Origin  and  Formation  of  Tragedy        .....  164~''" 

.  XI.     ^schylus 183 

XII.     Sophocles 196 

.XIII.  Euripides.     Complete  Evolution  of  Tragedy     .         .         .  211  . 

XIV.     Beginnings  of  Comedy 229 

XV.  Aristophanes  and  his  Contemporaries          ....  248                   > 

XVI.     Classical  Ionic  Prose:    Herodotus 265                   "^ 

XVIL  -Sophistry  and  Rheto.ric  :   Antiphon  ;    Socrates            .         .  279-"'*- 

XVIII.  Thucydides  and  his  Successors      ......  295               -. 

XIX.  Attic  Philosophy      .........  310                 ^-^ 

XX^    Attic  Oratory 350"""* 

XXI.     Comedy  in  the  Fourth  Century 392' 

XXII.  Xon-dramatic  Poetry  in  the  Fifth  and  Fourth  Centuries  404 

XXIII.  Philosophy  in  the  Fourth  and  Third  Centuries        .         .  414 

XXIV.  Rhetoric  and  Erudition  after  Alexander  (300-150)         .  423 
XXV.  Alexandrian  Poetry        ........  439 

XXVI.     PoLYRius  and  the  Last  Alexandrians 465 

XXVII.  From  Augustus  to  Domitian  .......  475 

XXVIII.  The    Hellenic   Revival,    from    Nekva   to   the    Death    of 

Diocletian      ..........  492 

XXIX.     Last  Days  of  Hellenic  Literature 538 

Index 563 

xi 


GREEK  LITERATURE 


CHAPTER   I 
ORIGINS! 

1.  The  Race  :  its  Origin  and  Formation.  2.  First  Creations  of  Greek  Genius. 
Legendary  Traditions;  Thracian  Minstrels,  Orpiieus,  Musseus,  etc.;Delian 
Poetry,  Oleu  ;  Early  Hymns.  3.  Historic  Indications  of  a  Primitive  Poetry. 
4.  Most  Ancient  Forms  of  Narrative  Poetry.  5.  Other  Forms  of  Poetry. 
Beginnings  of  Lyric  Song, 

1.  The  Race:  its  Origin  and  Formation.  —  The  Hellenic  race 
belongs  to  the  great  Aryan  family,  and  it  forms,  together  with  the 
Italian  race,  a  distinct  group,  characterized  by  two  things :  a  close 
affinity  of  idioms  and  similar  fundamental  religious  conceptions. 

How  and  when  was  this  race  established  on  Greek  soil  ?  "What 
have  been  the  phases  of  its  development  there?  By  what  course 
has  its  original  character  little  by  little  extricated  itself  from  bar- 
barism ?  Upon  all  these  points  we  lack  precise  and  trustworthy 
information.  Yet,  by  combining  the  oral  traditions  preserved  among 
the  Greeks  with  the  revelations  of  archaeology  and  the  evidences 
furnished  by  Egyptian  monuments  or  by  the  Bible,  we  arrive  at  an 
opinion  that  is  almost  a  certainty. 

The  race  from  which  the  Greeks  of  history  sprang  appears  between 
the  twentieth  and  fifteenth  centuries,  scattered  in  tribes  of  various 
names,  on  the  coast  of  Asia  Elinor,  in  the  islands  of  the  .-Egean  Sea, 
in  Thrace,  Macedonia,  and  the  Hellenic  reninsula.  Apparently  that 
race  came  from  the  Orient  and  gained  possession  of  these  territories 
little  by  little,  now  by  land  and  now  by  sea.  Although  tradition 
would  seem  to  unite  the  tribes  under  the  common  term  of  Pelasgi, 

!  For  a  general  account  of  the  Greek  race,  its  origins  and  its  migrations,  we 
refer  merely  to  the  more  recent  histories  of  Greece,  particularly  those  of  15eloch, 
IJusolt,  Pohlinann,  and  Holm.  On  the  dialects  consult  R.  Meister.  Die  grip- 
chi!<rhfn  DUilrkte ;  and  Smyth,  Sounds  and  Inflections  of  the  Greek  Dialects. 
The  older  histories  of  Grote  and  Curtius  are  .still  worthy  of  the  most  careful 
PLttciition. 


2  Greek  Literature 

we  can  be  sure  that  they  do  not  constitute  one  people.  For  the  only- 
bond  between  them  was  that  of  a  common  origin  and  language.  But 
even  this  community  allowed  some  obvious  differences  among  the 
various  groups  —  differences  which  were  to  be  felt  more  and  more 
as  each  tribe  developed  under  its  own  peculiar  conditions.  For, 
varying  with  differences  of  locality,  there  were  agricultural  tribes, 
warlike  tribes,  mountaineers,  seanaen,  shepherds,  and  hunters.  The 
Pelasgic  period,  then,  was  one  of  confused  elaboration,  during  which 
the  future  Greek  race  seems  to  have  lived,  if  one  may  so  put  it,  in 
an  inorganic  state. 

From  about  the  fifteenth  century  until  the  twelfth,  however,  one 
sees  rising  from  this  obscure  background,  probably  under  the  influ- 
ence of  Egypt,  Phoenicia,  Assyria,  and  Phrygia,  certain  groups  of 
peoples  with  more  distinctly  marked  characters.  Each  is  already 
assuming  its  historic  individuality.  One  may  call  the  period  pre- 
Hellenic,  since  it  comes  between  the  Pelasgic  age  and  that  which  we 
call  Hellenic.  The  groups  of  Asia,  under  the  names  of  Dardanians, 
Lycians,  Carians,  and  Leleges,  come  to  be  more  Asiatic ;  while  those 
in  the  islands  and  in  Greece  proper,  especially  on  the  eastern  shore, 
begin  to  take  on  an  Ionic  aspect.  These  latter,  though  somewhat 
inclined  toward  the  Orient,  are  separate  from  it,  and  they  are  open 
to  receive  from  elsewhere  and  to  cultivate  at  home  the  precious  ele- 
ments of  civilization.  In  certain  quarters,  communities  of  warriors 
and  strong  and  energetic  royal  houses  soon  spring  up  among  them. 
Thus  in  Phthiotis  and  the  Peloponnesus  we  find  the  Achaean  dynas- 
ties ;  in  Crete,  the  power  of  Minos ;  in  Bceotia,  the  Minyan  princi- 
palities. There  follows  a  period  of  three  or  four  centuries  of  heroic 
life,  great  enterprises,  and  wars ;  and  also  of  intellectual,  religious, 
economic,  and  social  development.  During  these  centuries,  the  mate- 
rial is  gathering  for  the  poetry  of  later  days.  This  is  the  age  of  the 
Argonauts,  the  Theban  expeditions,  Tro}',  Heracles,  Theseus,  and 
the  houses  of  Pelops  and  Labdacus.  Events  and  names  are  idealized 
into  greatness.  At  the  present  time  we  know  them  only  through 
legend;  yet  we  feel  that  behind  these  legends  teemed  an  activity 
like  a  thunder-storm. 

Toward  the  twelfth  century,  again,  there  were  important  move- 
ments among  tlie.se  pre-Hellenic  tribes,  and  then  began  the  real  period 
of  Helleiiization.  That  period  continued  till  about  the  middle  of  the 
eighth  century,  when  the  era  of  the  Olympiads  began.  Thus,  though 
there  was  no  destruction  of  the  original  distinctions,  a  Hellenic  unity 
was  formed :  the  Crreeks  became  really  one  people.  For  instance, 
the  settlement  of  the  Dorians  in  the  Peloponnesus  led  to  the  forma- 
tion of  a  certain  number  of  regular  states,  with  laws  for  the  govern- 


Origins  3 

ment  of  society,  and  a  firmly  established  power.  In  self-defence, 
the  neighboring  tribes  organized  themselves  more  thoroughly.  Attica, 
in  particular,  became  a  state,  and  its  Ionic  character  appeared  in 
strong  contrast  with  the  Doric  character  of  Sparta.  Many  of  the 
old  inhabitants  of  Greece  proper,  driven  from  their  homes  in  the 
course  of  these  invasions,  established  themselves  on  the  shores  of 
Asia,  where  long  before  peoples  of  the  same  origin  had  settled. 
Here  there  sprang  up  a  sort  of  new  Greece,  even  more  active  and 
enterprising  than  the  old.  But  while  all  these  changes  were  going 
on,  the  original  affinities,  as  they  gave  direction  to  the  currents  of 
migration  and  the  forming  of  alliances,  assumed  more  and  more 
importance.  The  Dorians  and  lonians  appeared,  henceforth,  as 
rival  groups,  each  with  its  own  character.  The  former  were  more 
attached  to  tradition,  better  disciplined,  more  austere,  and  more 
self-centred;  the  latter  more  changeable,  fonder  of  personal  free- 
dom, given  to  innovations,  and  open  to  influences  from  without. 
As  for  the  other  tribes,  who  leagued  themselves  neither  with  the 
Dorians  nor  with  the  lonians,  usage  tends  to  group  them  under  the 
name  of  iEolians.  This  artificial  grouping  brings  the  different  ele- 
ments together,  though  only  by  opposing  the  old  Pelasgic  to  the 
new  ethnic  unities.  Dorians,  lonians,  ^olians,  all,  as  opposed  to 
the  "barbarians"  whom  they  encountered  in  the  march  of  civiliza- 
tion, became  more  and  more  clearly  conscious  of  their  likeness  of 
origin.  The  name  of  Hellenes,  used  first  in  the  North,  and  probably 
introduced  into  central  Greece  by  the  Delphic  Amphictyony,  became 
rapidly  more  popular.  And  because  of  its  antique  religious  charac- 
ter it  quickly  superseded  the  particular  designations  that  divided 
tribes  and  states.  Little  by  little  it  was  accepted  or  was  forced 
into  general  use.  It  both  attested  the  national  unity  and  served  to 
promote  it.  And  this  national  unity  was,  moreover,  sealed  by  the 
institution  and  rapid  development  of  great  pre-Hellenic  festivals. 
The  commencement  of  the  Olympiads  marks  the  time  when  the 
Hellenic  world  consciously  entered  upon  its  history. 

The  race  thus  formed  had  perhaps  the  most  refined  taste  in  mat- 
ters of  art  ever  possessed  by  a  whole  people.  Alertness,  vividness 
of  conceptions,  readiness  of  intelligence,  and  fondness  for  argument, 
were  united  in  them  with  creative  force  of  imagination,  a  true  appre- 
ciation of  what  is  lifelike,  and  a  remarkable  instinct  for  beauty.  A 
happy  balance  of  faculties  predisposed  them  to  a  love  of  rhythm. 
They  knew  how  to  use  their  eyes  and  ears,  to  observe,  and  to  keep 
themselves  perpetually  in  touch  with  nature.  Yet  they  never  lost 
their  poise;  on  the  contrary,  their  active  spirit  mastered  nature, 
simplifying,  idealizing,  appropriating  by  a  systematic  procedure,  or 


4  Greek  Literature 

imitating  with  an  art  that  was  intelligent  and  free.  With  certainty 
of  intuition  and  admirable  self-confidence,  this  people  opened  all  the 
highways  of  human  thinking,  and  created  forms  of  art  which  seem 
likely  never  to  be  surpassed.  The  distinguishing  characteristic  of  its 
literature  is  that  of  being  at  once  speculative  and  artistic.  Without 
in  any  way  disdaining  practical  utility,  they  looked  instinctively 
beyond,  either  to  scientific  investigation,  or  to  the  production  of  the 
beautiful. 

2.  First  Creations  of  Greek  Genius.  Legendary  Traditions  ;  Thracian 
Minstrels,  Orpheus,  Musaeus,  etc. ;  Delian  Poetry,  Olen ;  Early  Hymns. — 
The  first  efforts  of  the  Greek  race  to  hand  down  orally  its  thoughts 
are  almost  beyond  our  power  to  trace.  For  us  the  most  ancient 
monument  of  Hellenic  literature  is  the  Iliad;  but  apparently  no  part 
of  that  goes  back  beyond  the  ninth,  or  at  all  events  the  tenth,  century. 
Yet  the  Iliad  is  the  product  of  an  art  already  well  advanced.  We 
must  presuppose  a  long  period  of  evolution  of  which  it  is  the  result. 
Wq  are  safe  in  saying  that  the  evolution  was  the  work  of  centuries  ; 
but  beyond  this,  we  know  nothing.  Even  in  antiquity,  when  liter- 
ary history  began,  men  had  nothing  to  say  about  how  literature  arose. 
And  so  the  only  thing  that  can  be  done  to-day,  using  the  facts  at 
our  disposal,  is  to  sketch  this  evolution  in  rough  outline. 

Greek  tradition  represents  that  in  primitive  times  there  lived  a 
certain  number  of  sacred  bards,  sons  of  the  gods  or  favorites  of  the 
Muses.  Such  were  Orpheus,  Linus,  Musseus,  Pamphus,  Eumolpus, 
and  Thamyris.  The  tales  about  them  were  purely  legendary,  and 
the  works  attributed  to  them  were  apocryphal  compositions,  pro- 
duced many  centuries  later.  Their  names  seem  to  be,  on  the  whole, 
purely  fictitious.  But  whatever  the  manner  in  which  these  names 
were  i)ut  into  circulation,  they  served  to  exi)lain  or  sanction  certain 
rites ;  for  almost  all  of  them  are  connected  with  the  history  of 
Greek  religion.     They  really  do  not  belong  to  that  of  literature. 

Still,  this  tradition  may  not  be  wholly  disregarded  ;  for  it  points 
us  to  the  north  of  Greece,  to  Thrace  and  Pieria,  as  the  home  of  most 
of  these  legendary  bards,  and  the  original  source  of  the  oldest  known 
hymns.  Herein  it  coincides  with  other  traditions  that  represent 
i^ieria  as  the  birthplace  of  the  Muses.  It  is  possible  to  conjecture 
that  from  these  regions,  in  times  very  remote,  were  brought  certain 
forms  of  cults  that  called  for  religious  song. 

Other  minstrels  of  like  character,  more  especially  devoted  to 
Apollo,  such  as  Olen,  Phrebammon,  andChrysothemis,  are  represented 
as  coming  from  the  isles  of  the  .Egean  Sea,  particularly  Delos  and 
Crete.  The  poetry  attriljuted  t(j  them  derived  its  first  inspiration 
from  Lycia.     The  best-known  of  these  poets  was  Olen,  who  was  said 


Origins  6 

to  have  come  from  Lycia  to  Delos.  The  Delian  women,  in  the  time  of 
Herodotus  (fifth  century),  still  sang  hymns  that  he  was  thought  to 
have  composed. 

The  Greeks  of  historic  times  had  preserved  in  these  legends  a 
vague  memory  of  some  very  ancient  poetry  connected  with  cults  that 
came  from  the  north  and  east  ;  and  it  was  the  hymns  of  these  ancient 
minstrels  that  the  Greeks  considered  as  the  prelude  to  their  own 
epic  poems.  No  idea  is  more  probable  in  itself.  But  even  setting 
aside  the  evidence  of  the  legends,  one  comes,  by  the  study  of  known 
facts,  to  conclusions  very  much  resembling  the  accounts  therein  con- 
tained. 

3.  Historic  Indications  of  a  Primitive  Poetry.  —  Archaeology  has 
by  the  study  of  monuments  established  the  fact  that  plastic  arts  had 
flourished  in  Greece  from  the  pre-Hellenic  period.  At  Orchomeuos,  — 
Tiryns,  Mycenae,  and  various  other  places  in  Attica,  Laconia,  and 
the  Islands,  there  have  been  found  remains  of  fortified  enclosures, 
foundation  walls  of  palaces,  and  sepulchres,  with  a  mass  of  objects 
in  gold,  silver,  copper,  incised  stones,  colored  glass,  or  terra  cotta, 
which  make  it  possible  to  reconstruct  almost  fully  the  life  of  the 
princes  of  the  time.  They  seem  to  have  loved  luxury ;  yet  it  was 
not,  even  at  that  day,  a  luxury  of  gaudy  ostentation,  but  was  already  / 
impressed  with  a  feeling  for  art.  These  princes  were  warriors  and 
hunters.  When  they  celebrated  the  ceremonies  of  their  religion,  or 
assembled  their  retainers  in  the  great  halls  of  their  palaces,  made 
brilliant  with  paintings  and  suits  of  metal,  we  cannot  suppose  that 
they  deprived  themselves  of  the  poets  that  would  chant  the  legends 
of  their  gods  and  sing  the  glories  of  their  ancestors. 

The  poems  of  the  Homeric  age  are  based  on  a  whole  cycle  of 
myths  and  heroic  tales,  which  must  have  been  elaborated  step  by 
step.  The  oldest  of  them  show  that,  at  the  time  of  their  production, 
the  cycle  was  well  developed.  The  genealogical  relations  of  the  gods 
and  their  essential  attributes  already  furnished  material  for  an 
ample  series  of  traditions.  ^Moreover,  the  traditions  were  not  con- 
nected with  the  region  where  the  poems  were  produced,  that  is,  with 
Asiatic  Greece ;  but  many  of  them  pointed  to  definite  localities  in  • 
continental  Greece.  This  is  a  sufficient  reason  for  believing  that 
they  came  from  there  and  had  grown  uj)  there.  It  was  in  the  simple 
chants  accompanying  sacrifices  that  these  traditions  must  have  re- 
ceived their  earliest  form.  What  is  true  of  the  gods  is  true  also  of 
the  heroes.  Ionic  epic  poetry  is  founded  on  a  mythical  history  that 
goes  back  to  the  Achaean,  Minyan,  and  Cadrasean  dynasties,  that  is 
to  say,  to  the  pre-Hellenic  period  and  to  Greece  proper;  and  from 
the  moment  of  its  appearance  it  used  this  history  as  both  well  known 


6  Crreek  Literature 

and  ancient.  Thus  we  are  led  to  believe  that  at  its  birth,  epic 
received  the  heritage  of  a  preceding  poetry  which  had  flourished  in 
Greece  under  the  influence  of  the  early  dynasties. 

The  form  of  the  Homeric  epic  leads,  moreover,  to  the  same 
conclusions.  It  employs  a  complex  versification,  which,  before 
attaining  its  perfection,  must  have  been  rendered  flexible  by  long 
usage.  In  addition  to  this  form  it  employs  an  immense  number  of 
set  phrases,  which  have  assumed  definite  shape  even  in  the  earliest 
examples  of  Greek  epic.  This  phraseology  is  used  in  designating 
gods  and  their  attributes,  describing  heroes  and  their  family  rela- 
tions, and  narrating  the  principal  events  of  heroic  life,  such  as  com- 
bats and  assemblies.  The  most  decisive  proof,  however,  is  that, 
though  the  poems  are  Ionic,  the  phraseology  is  largely  .^Eolic  in  form. 
Undoubtedly,  then,  the  Homeric  epic  was  brought  into  Asiatic  Greece 
by  the  descendants  of  the  Achaeans,  though  given  form  by  their 
ancestors  on  Greek  soil,  in  the  centuries  immediately  preceding  the 
migrations. 

4.  Most  Ancient  Forms  of  Narrative  Poetry.  —  What  has  just 
been  said  makes  it  possible  to  distinguish  by  their  essential  differ- 
ences the  various  forms  of  pre-Homeric  poetry. 

The  original  source  was  the  hymns  or  rather  the  chants  in  honor  of 
the  gods,  probably  recited  during  sacrifice.  In  a  time  when,  as  yet, 
human  thinking  had  not  advanced  beyond  very  simple  phases,  these 
hymns  must  have  consisted  chiefly  of  enumerations  of  attributes, 
outlines  of  genealogies,  short  liturgical  expressions,  and  formulas  of 
prayer. 

Side  by  side  with  the  hymns,  and  probably  under  their  influence, 
there  would  begin  to  be  historic  legends  tracing  the  origin  of 
princely  families  and  tribes,  the  genealogy  of  heroes  and  their  prin- 
cipal exploits,  the  foundation  of  cities,  and  their  alliances  and  wars. 
These  narratives  already  belonged  to  epic  ;  but  it  was  a  rudimentary, 
diffuse  epic,  doubtless  without  long  episodes,  pictures,  or  detailed 
l)ainting  of  sentiments,  confining  itself  to  a  naive  story,  and  giving 
no  details  or  amplifications. 

But  these  primitive  compositions,  Avhether  hymns  or  narratives, 
were  couched  in  a  language  which,  by  force  of  circumstances,  must 
have  rapidly  assumed  a  semi-con  vontional  character.  It  may  be  that 
poetry  was  more  conservative  of  ancient  forms  than  everyday  con- 
versation ;  or  it  may  be  that  it  aimed  instinctively  at  being  digni- 
fied. Tlie  poems  were  all  in  verse ;  for  verse,  of  necessity,  is  the 
first  form  of  literary  art  among  all  peoples.  It  had  been  created  by 
the  melody  and  rhythm  of  the  chant,  from  which,  at  that  time, 
poetry  never  was  se})arated.    Whatever  the  precise  rules  and  succes- 


Origins  7 

sive  stages  of  this  poetry,  it  gave  rise  to  the  Homeric  hexameter.        ^ 
The  chant  was  accompanied  by  a  stringed  instrument  of  very  simple 
character,  which  had  at  first  four  tones,  and  later  seven.      This  was 
the  phorminx  or  cithara,  whose  invention  was  ascribed  to  Hermes, 
though  sometimes  to  Apollo. 

5.  Other  Forms  of  Poetry.  Origins  of  Lyric  Song.  —  Besides  the 
Ji^roiQ^iilJii.ei'atiG^.p,Qetry,  there  is  no  doubt  that  popular  instinct  had 
led,  even  in  these  remote  times,  to  the  composition  of  other  chants 
appropriate  to  certain  circumstances  of  domestic  life.  The  most  an- 
cient epic  poetry,  for  instance,  attests  the  existence  of  funeral  dirges, 
or  threnodies  {6prjvoL);  nuptial  chants,  or  hymeneals  (r/te'mioi);  chants 
of  praise  to  the  gods,  or  paeans  (TratSves)  ;  and  various  kinds  of  rustic 
songs  in  conjunction  with  the  labors  of  the  country.  The  words  of 
these  chants  must  have  been  quite  simple ;  for  the  human  mind  was 
still  far  from  knowing  how  to  analyze  its  feelings.  Phrases  in  repe- 
tition were  all  that  it  required  as  a  balm  for  sorrow.  The  melodies 
themselves,  no  doubt,  were  not  all  indigenous  to  Greek  soil;  perhaps 
some  came  from  other  countries  and,  on  being  found  acceptable,  were 
accorded  popularity.  Melodies  and  chants  together  constituted  an 
elementary  form  of  poetry  that  had  a  character  all  its  own,  not  nar- 
rative like  that  we  have  already  been  discussing.  It  expressed 
directly  the  real  sentiments  of  those  who  employed  it ;  and  the  sen- 
timents were  collective;  that  is,  common  to  a  group  of  relatives, 
friends,  brothers  in  arms,  or  companions  in  toil.  Really  we  iind 
here  the  germ  of  the  future  choral  lyric. 

So,  even  in  prehistoric  times,  we  see  in  Greece,  under  the  form 
of  hymns,  heroic  tales,  and  chants  of  varied  character,  a  primitive 
growth  of  poetry  springing  up.  Its  young  and  vigorous  branches 
were  to  grow  apace ;  and,  thoiigh  growing  together,  were  to  develop 
separate  individualities.  The  first  to  come  to  brilliance  was  the 
epic.     Let  us  now  examine  the  process  of  its  growth. 


CHAPTER   II 

BEGINNINGS  OF   HEROIC   POETRY 
Homer  and  the  Homerides 

1.  Rise  of  Epic  Poetry  in  Asiatic  Greece  after  the  Migrations.  2.  ^olic  and 
Ionic  Periods.  Smyrna  and  Chios.  3.  Homer.  4.  The  Bards  and  their 
Auditors.  Epic  Recitations.  5.  Length  of  the  Epic  Recitations.  General 
Account  of  the  Formation  of  the  Great  Epics.  6.  Transmis.sion  of  Epic 
Chants.  The  Homerides.  Duration  of  the  Epic  Period.  7.  General  Char- 
acteristics of  Epic  Art. 

1.  Rise  of  Epic  Poetry  in  Asiatic  Greece  after  the  Migrations.  —  The 
event  which  seems  to  have  brought  about  a  flourishing  period  of  epic 
poetry  in  the  tenth  century  b.c.  was  that-  series  of  migrations 
which  had  brought  to  the  borders  of  Asia,  in  the  course  of  the 
eleventh  century,  part  of  the  energetic  peoples  whom  the  Dorians 
had  driven  from  Greece. 

Thrust  from  their  native  land  and  still  discontented  in  their  new 
home,  these  Greeks  clung  passionately  to  their  traditions,  which 
were  for  them  a  reminder  of  their  country.  Besides,  the  very  cir- 
cumstances of  their  settlement  in  Asia  tended  to  renew  and  develop 
certain  of  their  legends.  The  .Eolians,  who  were  established  at 
Lesbos  and  in  the  Troad,  were  forced  to  wage  war  on  the  peoples  who 
had  occu})ied  these  countries.  The  Achavan  chiefs  who  commanded 
them  were  in  a  condition  to  renew  there  the  exploits  which  their 
legends  attributed  to  Agamemnon  and  his  companions.  So  the  old 
lays  which  commemorated  the  exploits  of  these  heroes  suddenly 
assumed  an  unexpected  reality,  in  tliat  they  neglected  the  ]>ast  to 
idealize  the  events  of  the  day.  They  served  to  satisfy  and  ennoble 
the  sentiments  with  which  men's  hearts  were  flllod. 

2.  .ffiolic  and  Ionic  Periods.  Smyrna  and  Chios.  —  AVe  see.  then, 
why  the  epic  chant  was  first  cultivated  in  the  .Eolic  jiart  of  Asia 
!Minor.  Nowhere  else  were  favorable  moral  forces  so  powerful. 
And,  too,  the  Inirds,  who  in  (Jreece  pro})er  had  been  attached  to 
the  Aehtean  princes,  must  have  accomjianied  them  when  they  emi- 
grated. Thus,  if  one  may  use  the  language  of  legend,  the  head  and 
lyre  of  Orpheus  came  to  Lesbos.  Of  this  .Eolic  j^eriod  of  epic  life, 
however,  we  know  nothing.      The  Greek  epic,  after  becoming  Ionic, 


Beginnings  of  Heroic  Poetry  9 

forgot  its  origin.  But  this  forgotten  origin  had,  notwithstanding, 
been  indelibly  imprinted  on  it.  For  in  its  new  form  it  preserved 
traces  of  the  dialect  which  Avas  doubtless  used  in  Greece  proper,  and 
which  continued  in  use  in  iEolic  Asia ;  moreover,  its  most  ancient 
and  beautiful  production,  the  Iliad,  is,  at  bottom,  an  .^olic  lay, 
since  it  particularly  celebrates  the  Thessalian  Achilles  and  the 
ancestors  of  the  chiefs  who  had  led  the  expedition  from  ^^olis. 

Nevertheless  it  is  in  Ionic  Asia  Minor  that  the  epic  seems  really 
to  have  been  developed.  The  language  of  the  Iliad  and  Odyssey  is, 
on  the  whole,  Ionic ;  ^  the  manners,  the  cast  of  thought,  and  the 
sentiment  have  an  Ionic  coloring ;  in  short,  important  elements  of 
Ionic  tradition  are  intimately  associated  in  the  two  poems  with 
others  of  .'Eolic  origin.  The  only  hypothesis  explaining  this  is  the 
admission  that  the  old  epic  chants,  after  having  seen  a  rapid  and 
brilliant  development  in  .^Eolia  at  the  close  of  the  migrations, 
passed  thence  into  Ionia ;  and  that  the  Ionic  genius  adopted  them 
and  developed  from  them  the  epic  properly  so  called. 

This  view,  moreover,  is  confirmed  indirectly  by  the  ancient 
traditions,  which  are  almost  unanimous  in  assigning  Ionia  as  the 
^therland  of  Homer,  the  greatest  representative  t:f  primitive  epic. 
It  is  true  that  they  hesitate  to  decide  among  several  Ionic  cities  ; 
but  for  us  this  is  of  no  importance.  The  doubt  is  a  superficial 
matter  ;  for  if  we  disregard  merely  fanciful  conjectures,  it  is  easy  to 
see  that  tradition  points  out  but  two  cities,  Smyrna  and  Chios. 
Now  Smyrna,  a  city  of  /Eolic  origin,  which  afterward  became 
Ionic,  is  precisely  the  place  for  an  easy  fusion  of  the  ^Eolic  and  Ionic 
elements,  the  traces  of  which  we  have  just  recognized ;  and  the 
neigliboring  island  of  Chios,  inhabited  by  lonians,  but  in  constant 
relation  with  ^Eolis,  was  no  less  suited  to  the  appropriation  by 
lonians  of  an  .Eolic  art. 

If  Ionia  had  the  privilege  of  collecting  what  had  been  made 
ready  long  before,  and  of  giving  to  Greece  the  first  work  in  which 
the  real  lustre  of  its  genius  is  shown,  she  owed  the  privilege  to  cer- 
tain natural  advantages.  She  had  the  richest  lands  along  the  Asiatic 
coast.  The  banks  of  her  rivers,  her  alluvial  plains,  her  sunny  declivi- 
ties, were  all  easy  of  cultivation.  Then,  in  spite  of  the  wars  with 
Lydia,  the  occupation  of  the  country  here  had  cost  less  blood.  She 
enjoyed,  also,  unusual  luxury  and  peace ;  and  these  favor  an  art 
which  is  to  be  developed  within  splendid  palaces,  amid  scenes  of 

^  On  the  langiiaire  of  Homer  and  its  component  elements,  see  particularly 
the  prolei^oinena  of  Ciiri.st,  IUa<lis  Carmina,  Leipsic,  1884  ;  Monro,  Homeric 
CTrnmmar,  Oxford,  1891  ;  and  Seymour,  Introduction  to  the  Language  and  Verse 
of  Homer,  lioston,  1892. 


10  Greek  Literature 

festivity.  Above  all,  the  Greeks  of  the  region,  because  of  their 
relations  with  Lydia,  Phrygia,  Phoenicia,  and  so  with  the  interior 
of  Asia,  seem  to  have  been  animated  by  a  spirit  of  innovation  and 
progress ;  and  because  of  all  these  advantages  their  poetry  was  the 
gainer. 

3.  Homer.^  —  There  is  a  well-established  tradition  which  attrib- 
utes the  first  creation  of  the  epic  to  one  great  poet,  of  whom  anti- 
quity almost  made  a  god.     That  poet  was  Homer. 

He  had  no  history.  No  one  knew  exactly  the  place  of  his  birth 
or  death,  nor  even  the  time  when  he  flourished.  Several  Ionic 
cities  contended  for  the  honor  of  being  his  birthplace ;  others  were 
anxious  to  believe  that  they  had  at  least  received  him  as  a  guest. 
All  this,  however,  was  mere  rumor,  based  on  local  pretension  and 
arbitrary  conjecture.  He  was  represented  as  a  blind  singer,  who 
had  lived  in  poverty,  wandering  from  city  to  city,  paying  his  hosts 
with  poems  —  here  received  with  favor,  there  repulsed.  The  various 
biographical  notices  which  have  come  to  us  about  him  all  date  from 
the  period  of  the  Empire.  They  have  preserved,  with  unimportant 
losses,  the  simple  legends  which  were  long  taught  in  the  Greek 
schools  ;  but  to  these  no  man  of  sense  attributed  real  historical  value. 
Men  believed  in  the  existence  of  Homer  because  of  the  evidence  of 
his  immortal  works ;  but  no  one  knew  anything  certain  or  definite 
about  him. 

Modern  criticism,  in  the  face  of  such  vague  tradition,  could  not 
escape  certain  doubts.  "Without  entering  here  upon  an  involved  dis- 
cussion, we  may  set  forth  briefly  their  foundation.  The  Iliad  in  its 
present  state  appears,  as  we  shall  see,  to  be  the  result  of  the  succes- 
sive labors  of  several  poets  ;  but  scholars  are  more  and  more  agreed 
in  the  belief  that  the  poem  was  at  least  sketched  by  the  most  ancient 
of  them,  and  that  he  can  be  considered  as  its  principal  author.  So 
then,  at  the  beginning  of  tTie  poem's  evolution,  there  must  have 
existed  a  man  of  genius  who,  by  the  incomparable  grandeur  of  his 
invention,  became  the  father  of  Greek  epic.  He  was  an  Ionian,  for 
his  work  was  Ionic.  From  Avhat  is  said  above,  Ave  judge  that  he 
composed  at  Smyrna  or  at  Chios.  Smyrna  granted  him  a  cult  which 
lasted  into  historic  times;  Chios  regarded  him  as  the  eponymous 
ancestor  of  one  of  her  most  ancient  families.  It  is  not  absolutely 
certain  that  his  name  was  Homer ;  for  all  the  old  poems  were  anony- 

^  Biography  :  The  ancient  notices  are  broutrht  together  in  Westermann, 
Vitarum  Srriptur's,  I-VIII,  Brun.s\Yick.  1841  ;  and  in  some  of  the  editions.  See 
also  Ilarpocration's  Lpxiron,  s.v.  'O^rjpiSai. 

Consult  Nitzsch.  ^h.hb-mntum  de  Ilistoria  Homcri,  fasc.  II,  pars  altera, 
Kiel,  1834;  Sensebusch.  Disst  rtatiunps  Ilomerka.'.  I  and  II.  in  the  Teubner 
edition  of  the  Iliad  and  the  0'!;/ss(>j ;  and  also  the  histories  of  Greek  literature. 


Beginnings  of  Heroic  Poetry  11 

mous.  It  is  quite  possible  that  the  name  was  borrowed  from  some 
legend  or  taken  from  the  mythological  traditions  of  some  family. 
That  is  really  unimportant.  But  if  the  existence  of  the  poet  be 
established  beyond  doubt,  there  is  nothing  amiss  in  attributing  to 
him  the  name  by  which  he  has  always  been  recognized. 

Homer  can  have  for  us  no  character  but  that  which  he  imprinted 
on  his  work.  He  was  a  bard  like  those  described  in  the  Odyssey. 
He  received  epic  traditions  from  his  predecessors  and  transmitted 
them  to  his  successors.  But  upon  these  he  grafted  certain  elements, 
wholly  personal,  whose  magnitude  we  shall  consider  farther  on. 

4.  The  Bards  and  their  Auditors.  Epic  Recitations.^ —  In  order  to 
understand  what  Homer  was  and  under  what  conditions  he  composed 
his  works,  let  us  bring  before  us  the  status  of  the  bards  in  general, 
and  the  customs  of  the  people  whom  they  addressed. 

Their  auditors  were  largely  the  wealthy  people  of  cities  and  ham- 
lets. Devoted  to  agriculture,  and  later  to  commerce,  even  to  war 
when  that  was  needful,  the  heads  of  families  formed  an  aristocracy, 
presided  over  by  kings  who  Avere  thought  to  have  sprung  from  the 
gods.  Each  one  lived  on  a  vast  estate,  surrounded  by  his  sons,  and 
by  servants  who  were  slaves  or  mercenaries.  There  he  had  his 
apartments,  his  treasuries,  and  his  storehouses.  In  his  palace 
there  was  a  stately  room  properly  called  the  megaron.  It  was  the 
great  hall  in  which  the  chief  took  his  repast  with  his  household  or 
received  his  guests.  The  roof,  sustained  by  pillars,  had  a  central 
opening  for  the  escape  of  smoke.  Beneath  this  was  a  hearth,  on 
which  the  fire  was  always  burning.  There  the  water  was  set  to 
boil  and  the  meat  was  roasted.  The  simplicity  of  manners  accorded 
with  that  of  the  house.  People  chatted  very  little  in  the  sense  which 
we  give  to  the  word;  for  they  had  few  ideas  to  exchange.  Their 
utterances  were  short,  sententious,  and  ready  formed.  On  all  essential 
matters,  they  had  the  opinions  of  tradition ;  and  these  were  never 
called  in  question. 

They  were  especially  pleased  with  recitations.  Little  given  to  dis- 
cussion, they  had  no  better  occupation  for  their  leisure  than  that  of 
telling  one  another  what  they  had  seen  or  heard.  The  stranger  who 
brought  news,  or  who  described  things  little  understood,  was  wel- 
comed with  joy.  In  default  of  a  stranger,  professional  story-tellers 
were  in  demand,  who  made  it  their  business  to  grace  the  reunions  of 
friends  by  chanting  long  recitations. 

1  CoysfLT : 

Classic  texts:  O'h/sspy,  T,  VTTI,  XXII.  On  the  fi4yapov  and  the  Homeric 
palace:  Buchholz,  Jlovwrische  ItC'ilicn,  IF,  Leipsic,  lS8o  (second  part);  ^V. 
Helbig,  Dns  homerisrhr,  Enn/i,  Leipsic,  2d  ed.,  1H87  ;  Perrot  and  Chipiez,  Ilis- 
toire  de  V Art  dans  VAntiquite.  vols.  VI  and  VII,  Taris,  ISIM  and  1898. 


12  Greek  Literature 

The  bard  was  precisely  such  a  story-teller.  He  was  endowed 
with  unusual  abilities,  and  had  educated  himself  appropriately  for 
his  work.  He  had  been  taught  by  a  master,  perhaps  his  father,  to 
play  the  cithara  and  to  declaim  in  rhythm  in  a  sonorous  and  musical 
voice.  He  had  learned  the  laws  of  versification  and  poetic  language, 
and  had  inherited  a  whole  series  of  chants  composed  by  his  master  or 
by  others.  The  transmission  was  probably  oral ;  for  it  is  very  doubt- 
ful whether  the  practice  of  writing  was  current  enough  to  be 
employed  for  the  preservation  of  long  narratives.  A  good  bard 
needed,  therefore,  an  excellent  memory.  But  the  store  of  chants 
which  he  had  inherited  was  soon  exhausted.  The  public  would 
consent  to  listen  several  times  to  certain  narratives  that  it  admired ; 
but,  on  the  whole,  this  repetition  was  exceptional.  To  please  con- 
tinuously, he  must  offer  his  hearers,  as  much  as  possible,  what  was 
new.  He  needed,  then,  in  his  turn  to  compose  verse  narratives  like 
those  he  had  learned  from  his  masters.  Thus  epic  lays  were  multi- 
plied, as  dramas  were  multiplied  later  on.  Some  bards  became 
renowned  because  the  fertility  of  their  genius  made  them  popular. 
If  the  master  of  the  house  wished  to  give  his  guests  a  brilliant 
entertainment,  he  would  call  in  some  bard,  just  as  we  would  call  in 
a  well-known  actor  or  singer;  and  such  a  bard  was,  of  course, 
rewarded  in  proportion  to  his  fame. 

Ordinarily  it  was  at  the  end  of  the  repast,  in  the  megaron,  that 
the  bard  began  his  narrative.  When  the  guests  had  eaten  and  drunk 
their  fill,  he  arose.  All  were  attentive,  anxious  for  the  thrilling 
stories  that  they  were  to  enjoy,  and  ready  to  grow  enthusiastic 
over  heroic  scenes.  There  was  a  prelude,  consisting  of  a  few  strains 
on  the  cithara,  intended  to  bring  the  listeners  to  silence,  and  to  mark 
the  rhythm  of  the  recitation.  Then,  clear  and  melodious,  his  voice 
rose  through  the  great  hall,  modulating  the  verses  by  the  mere  effect 
of  rhythm,  yet  not  chanting  them.  He  began  with  a  short  prayer 
addressed  to  Zeus,  or  to  the  god  whom  the  circumstances  demanded, 
and  then  immediately  entered  upon  the  story. 

The  theme  of  the  story  was  always  an  episode  from  one  of  tlie 
heroic  legends  {olfjirj)  then  everywhere  current.  The  narrator  first 
outlined,  in  a  few  verses,  what  he  meant  to  rehearse  in  detail ;  and 
to  indicate  tliat  the  story  had  been  inspired  by  the  gods,  he  prayed 
the  ^Fusc,  the  goddess  of  invention  and  memory,  to  inspire  him  with 
the  words  he  should  utter.  Then,  recalling  facts  known  to  all,  he 
set  forth  briefly  the  initial  situation.  After  that  he  could  give  an 
almost  free  rein  to  his  imagination.  For  upon  the  basis  of  tradition, 
he  could,  while  composing  his  narrative,  construct  according  to  his 
fancy.    Only  the  great  events  and  the  great  personages  were  imposed 


Beginnings  of  Heroic  Poetry  13 

upon  him ;  the  detail  was  all  his  owu.  If  he  conformed  to  the  gen- 
eral outlines  of  tradition,  nothing  prevented  him  from  making  his 
heroes  act  and  speak  as  he  chose.  He  invented  combats,  inter- 
views, disputes,  conversations,  combinations  of  scenes,  and  speeches. 
^Neither  he  nor  his  auditors  thought  of  asking  whether  this  were 
history.  If  the  story  was  thrilling,  if  the  acts  and  words  seemed 
true  to  what  was  ideal  and  human,  it  was  freely  admitted  that  things 
must  thus  have  come  to  pass.  In  an  age  when  men  seemed  to  feel  in 
everything  a  divine  suggestion,  even  in  the  common  doings  of  human 
industry,  there  could  be  no  doubt  that  stories  of  such  beauty  were 
inspired  by  the  gods.  Without  distinguishing  substance  from  form, 
they  freely  admitted  that  the  gods  must  have  revealed  the  past  to 
the  poet,  while  inspiring  him  with  the  beautiful  expressions  that 
charmed  their  hearts.  And  so  the  chants  of  the  bard  were  listened 
to  with  a  sort  of  fervor  as  being,  in  a  sense,  divine.  These  naive 
auditors,  thrilled  by  the  tones  of  the  cithara,  which  at  long  intervals 
sustained  the  declamation,  saw  with  their  mind's  eye  the  scenes  that 
were  described.  A  thrill  of  terror,  anger,  pity,  or  admiration  came 
to  them  at  every  instant.  Sometimes  they  interrupted  the  bard  with 
cries,  and  he  was  obliged  to  pause  and  wait  for  their  noisy  acclama- 
tions to  subside.  But  soon,  excited  by  the  god  whom  he  thought  he 
felt  within  him,  he  began  again,  linking  story  to  story  till  the  hour 
came  when  the  banquet  was  to  end. 

The  most  striking  characteristics  of  Greek  epic,  as  we  shall  describe 
them  farther  on,  are  due,  almost  entirely,  to  its  adaptation  to  such 
auditors.  It  is  religious,  heroic,  aristocratic,  like  the  people  for 
whom  it  was  composed.  It  reflects  their  ideas,  their  sentiments, 
their  tastes.  We  must  note  particularly  that  its  very  form  was 
determined  by  the  conditions  under  which  it  was  produced. 

5.  Length  of  Epic  Recitations.  General  Account  of  the  Formation  of 
the  Great  Epics.  —  The  bards  never  composed  poems  to  be  read ;  for, 
even  supposing  that  they  might  have  used  writing  at  this  early  period 
as  an  aid  to  memory,  —  a  supposition  by  no  means  certain, — their 
auditors,  in  any  case,  did  not  read.  The  poems  were  made  to  be 
recited  ;  and  the  length,  at  least  at  first,  was  necessarily  such  as  was 
appropriate  to  recitation. 

The  first  type  of  the  Ionic  epic  is  a  lay  of  moderate  length,  suita- 
ble for  an  evening's  recitation  after  the  repast.  To  give  us  a  defi- 
nite idea,  we  may  suppose  that  between  five  hundred  and  a  thousand 
verses  would  be  rendered  in  that  time. 

This  is  the  length  of  the  chants  in  the  lUad  and  Odyssey,  or  at 
least  of  those  that  form  a  complete  whole.  There  ap])ears  no  doubt 
that  the  poems  of  Homer's   contemporaries  were  oftenest  of  this 


14  Greek  Literature 

length;  for  the  lays  mentioned  in  the  Odyssey  are  built  upon  pre- 
cisely such  a  model.  Moreover,  the  great  epics  that  we  possess,  the 
Iliad  and  the  Odyssey,  are  in  themselves  evidence  of  such  a  method 
of  composition,  since  they  divide  easily  into  a  series  of  episodes  of 
this  extent.  We  have,  then,  a  well-established  fact,  which  must 
not  be  lost  sight  of  in  trying  to  understand  the  formation  of  the 
great  epics. 

Is  it,  now,  probable  that  the  bards  passed  suddenly  from  the 
making  of  these  short  poems  to  poems  as  long  as  the  Iliad  J  Indeed, 
inasmuch  as  there  were  no  readers,  it  is  difficult  to  conceive  why 
such  great  poems  could  have  been  composed.  It  has  nowhere  been 
shown  that  public  recitations  of  long  continuance  belong  to  the 
Homeric  period,  and  they  seem  hardly  to  fit  in  with  the  usages  of 
those  times.  To  explain,  then,  the  existence  of  these  poems,  we  must 
find  a  transitional  form  that  could  give  rise  to  them ;  and  this  form 
must  be  appropriate  to  the  needs  of  a  society  devoting  but  little  time 
to  letters.  It  is,  however,  easy  for  us  to  imagine  from  circumstantial 
and  presumptive  evidence  what  this  form  was. 

The  chants  of  which  we  have  spoken,  relating  as  they  did  to  one 
and  the  same  legend,  must  often  have  followed  one  another  in  logi- 
cal sequence.  A  bard,  after  having  recited  successfully  the  quarrel 
between  Achilles  and  Agamemnon,  might  be  drawn  on  to  show  its 
consequences  by  telling  in  succession  the  defeat  of  the  Achteans, 
their  effort  to  appease  Achilles,  the  intervention  of  Patroclus  in 
their  favor,  and  his  exploits  and  death.  Thus  there  would  be  five 
or  six  narratives  for  recitation,  each  separate,  yet  with  a  thread  of 
connection  running  through  them.  If  he  were  called  upon  to  give 
them,  each  in  a  different  place  and  before  different  audiences,  each 
story  could  be  given  by  itself.  Only  a  few  verses  of  introduction 
would  be  necessary  to  make  the  narrative  perfectly  intelligible.  If, 
on  the  contrary,  the  bard  recited  twice  in  the  same  day  before  the 
same  audience,  like  Demodocus  in  the  eighth  book  of  the  Odyssey, 
he  would  choose  two  of  these  odes  in  order  that  his  hearers  might 
have  the  pleasure  of  meeting  the  same  personages  again,  and  of 
hearing  the  "end  of  the  story."  Finally,  it  was  possible  under  cer- 
tain circumstances  that,  for  some  days  in  succession,  the  same  bard 
might  have  the  same  audience  in  different  wealthy  houses  of  the 
same  city ;  and  then  he  would  recite  the  wjiole  series  of  his  poems, 
and  so  display  all  the  fertility  of  his  genius.  A  certain  grouping  of 
the  poems  of  one  author  would  then  be  natural  and  advantageous  — 
but  only  in  case  the  grouping  were  loose  enough  so  that  afterward 
the  poems  could  be  easily  detached. 

This  sort  of  grouping  it  is  that  probably  brought  about  the  for- 


Beginnings  of  Heroic  Poetry  15 

ination  of  the  great  epics.  To  understand  the  process  better,  we 
must  consider  also  the  way  in  which  the  first  groups,  once  consti- 
tuted, were  transmitted  from  bard  to  bard  and  so  developed. 

6.  Transmission  of  the  Epic  Chants.  The  Homerides.  Duration  of 
the  Epic  Period.  —  The  chants  created  by  a  bard  could  of  course  be 
retouched  and  added  to  by  him  as  long  as  he  lived.  The  most  suc- 
cessful ones  did  not  necessarily  disappear  with  their  author.  Other 
bards,  his  heirs  or  disciples,  collected  and  recited  them  in  their 
turn.  Each  of  these,  likewise,  had  his  successors ;  and  so  the 
sequence  continued  as  long  as  epic  was  the  form  of  poetry  in  vogue. 
The  manner  of  this  succession  of  the  bards  was,  however,  not 
uniform.  Sometimes  the  art  and  the  tradition  passed  from  a  master 
to  a  voluntary  disciple;  but  more  often,  doubtless,  from  a  father  to 
one  of  his  sons,  or  to  a  near  relative.  Ancient  evidence  seems  to 
establish,  in  fact,  that  there  were  schools  of  poets.  Certain  families 
are  cited,  within  which  the  heritage  of  epic  was  handed  down.  Such 
was  the  family  of  the  Homeridas  at  Chios,  or  that  of  the  Creophy- 
lians  at  Samos.  Of  course,  this  does  not  mean  that  all  members  of 
these  families  exercised  the  art ;  but,  among  those  descended  from 
the  same  ancestor,  it  is  not  surprising  that,  at  a  time  when  heredi- 
tary customs  still  retained  full  force,  there  could  be  found  in  every 
generation  one  or  more  men  devoted  to  a  profession  which  their 
fathers  had  made  illustrious.  Such  a  state  of  things  would  favor 
remarkably  the  preservation  and  development  of  great  epic 
compositions. 

Under  what  conditions  the  transmission  of  a  poetic  work  was 
effected,  we  can  now  only  conjecture.  The  notion  of  scrupulous 
respect  for  a  text  as  the  property  of  an  author  seems  to  have  been 
totally  unknown.  A  poem  was  preserved  only  because  it  pleased 
the  public,  and  because  the  bards,  by  the  very  necessities  of  keeping 
their  success  constantly  in  view,  found  it  to  their  interest  to  repro- 
duce the  poem  as  often  as  it  was  demanded.  But  meanwhile  they 
found  it  to  their  interest  also  to  renew  and  extend  their  poems. 
Just  as,  at  a  later  period,  certain  tragic  subjects  were  rehearsed 
indefinitely  and  constantly  renewed,  so  at  that  time  favorite  epic 
subjects  were  dealt  with.  But  a  tragedy,  once  formed,  Could  hardly 
be  lengthened;  it  needed  to  be  recast  in  order  to  be  renewed.  The 
groups  of  epic  chants  which  we  have  been  treating  lent  themselves, 
however,  by  their  very  nature,  to  various  kinds  of  development. 
Nothing  was  easier  than  to  imagine  subordinate  scenes  based  on 
well-known  situations,  and  to  gr;^|^tliem  at  will  upon  the  original 
ones.  The  Lay  of  DoIqu  in  the  lleventh  book  of  the  Iliad  is  an 
obvious  example  of  tlfis  sort  of  creation.  In  fact,  there  is  no  doubt 
f  ^ 


16  Greek  Literature 

that  most  of  the  primitive  epic  chants  were  retouched,  extended, 
and  enlarged,  throughout  the  period  when  epic  imagination  was  in 
full  activity. 

This  period,  as  we  have  said,  seems  to  have  begun  in  Ionia 
shortly  after  the  immigration  of  the  Greeks,  when  the  first  difficul- 
ties had  been  surmounted.  That  was  in  the  tenth  century  before 
our  era,  approximately  950  b.c.  It  continued  for  two  or  three  cen- 
turies, until  700  or  650,  when  the  epic  period  noticeably  deteriorated, 
and  the  lyric  period,  more  suited  to  the  manners  and  tastes  of  the 
times,  took  its  place.  It  was  in  the  epic  period  that  the  formation 
of  the  great  works  of  which  we  shall  say  more  in  the  next  chapter 
was  achieved. 

7.  General  Characteristics  of  Epic  Art. — Before  beginning  the 
study  of  these  works,  we  must  indicate  certain  general  character- 
istics common  to  all  the  heroic  epics. 

The  language  used  by  the  bards  was  not  that  used  in  the  common 
life  of  the  day,  but  was  conventional.  Although  the  poets  and  their 
hearers  were  lonians,  their  language,  as  we  have  seen,  included 
^olic  elements.  This  gave  it  an  archaic  color  by  virtue  of  which 
it  seemed  more  noble,  more  worthy  of  the  heroes  and  great  exploits 
which  it  celebrated.  For  the  same  reason  current  phrases  were 
rejected,  and  replaced  freely  by  rare  or  antiquated  ones.  The  bards 
were  fond,  also,  of  compound  words ;  and  to  satisfy  this  taste,  they 
were  constantly  creating  brilliant  and  sonorous  epithets,  that  were 
afterward  transmitted  from  one  to  another.  A  certain  archaism 
made  itself  felt  also  in  their  forms  of  declension  and  conjugation  ; 
for  they  retained  such  forms  as  custom  was  beginning  to  abandon, 
and  avoided  others  that  were  being  introduced.  In  a  word,  they 
were  pleased  with  traditional  formulas  and  pompous  phraseology  in 
the  manner  of  the  old  religious  poems.  All  this  gave  solemnity  to 
the  epic  chant,  and  carried  men's  imagination  far  from  the  reality 
of  the  present.  We  shall  see  that  the  poets  knew  how  to  unite  this 
solemnity  with  the  qualities  that  give  a  poem  life. 

If  we  pass  from  style  to  composition,  we  are  again  confronted 
with  fixed  traditions.  The  epic  recitation,  planned  to  while  away  the 
hours  of  leisure,  was  slow  and  full  of  detail.  It  stopped  obligingly 
for  episodes.  It  feared  neither  long  enumerations  nor  descriptions 
of  combat,  tliougli  these  now  seem  monotonous  enough.  Dialogue 
as  we  know  it  was  unknown.  When  we  find  the  persons  speaking, 
there  is  no  interruption  nor  rai)id  exchange  of  questions  and  answers. 
Each  of  the  interlocutors  is  introduced  in  turn  by  some  such  phrase 
as  :  ''  Then  such  an  one  arose  and  spoke  as  follows,"  or  "  After  this 
hero  had  thus  spoken,  such  another  one  replied  in  these  terms." 


Beginnings  of  Heroic  Poetry  17 

The  poet  thus  presents  to  us  a  series  of  long  or  of  short  discourses, 
but  never  a  regular  conversation.  Even  in  the  narrative  he  proceeds 
by  development  of  parts.  The  unity  of  the  whole  results  from  the 
close  connection  of  these  parts,  but  is,  in  general,  feeble.  The  prog- 
ress of  the  story,  when  there  is  any  progress,  is  nearly  always  with- 
out obvious  cause.  The  parts  are  introduced  and  closed  by  formulas,  • 
which  are  repeated  several  times  in  the  same  narrative. 

I  The  poetic  invention  itself  appears  to  be  as  subject  to  traditional 
custom  as  the  form  of  the  poems.  The  constant  intervention  of  the 
gods  is  doubtless  in  agreement  with  the  beliefs  of  the  day ;  but  it 
constitutes,  no  less,  a  means  by  which  the  poets  could  embellish  and 
increase  the  interest  of  their  lays.  Sometimes  they  represent  the 
gods  as  coming  down  to  earth,  and  portray  their  equipment,  their 
chariots,  and  their  transformations.  Sometimes,  on  the  contrary, 
they  carry  their  auditors  to  Olympus,  and  relate  as  eye-witnesses 
what  is  there  said  and  done.  Such  are  the  traditional  themes,  from 
which  the  powerful  imagination  of  a  Homer  brought  forth  admirable  * 
productions,  but  which  could,  and  in  fact  did,  offer  ready  resources 
to  poets  of  less  merit.  The  same  is  true  of  the  tales  of  combats,  as- 
saults, interviews,  and  discussions.  In  all  forms  of  literary  composi- 
tion and  in  all  times,  successful  inventions  soon  come  to  be  public 
property  ;  imitated  by  all,  they  finally  belong  to  no  one.  But  in  the 
primitive  epic  this  was  perhaps  truer  than  it  has  ever  been  since, 
and  more  significant,  because,  in  primitive  times,  less  attention  was 
paid  to  originality. 

In  fact,  one  of  the  most  striking  characteristics  of  these  poems  is 
their  impersonality.  The  poet  never  speaks  on  his  own  initiative, 
never  thinks  himself  authorized  to  give  a  judgment  in  his  own  name, 
and  never  lets  us  know  his  opinion.  The  Muse  is  thought  to  be 
speaking  through  his  lips ;  the  poet  is  nothing  more  than  her  inter- 
preter, and  this  is  enough  to  constitute  his  grandeur. 

Under  such  conditions,  one  sees  how  easily  the  work  of  different 
poets  could  1)0  combined  into  the  same  great  whole.  Doubtless  no 
man  is  precisely  like  any  other  ;  and  where  several  men  have  worked 
together,  each  must,  though  unintentionally,  leave  some  imprint  of 
his  personality.  But  in  these  epics,  such  impressions,  though  we 
are  critically  alert  to  discover  them,  appear  as  faint  as  it  is  possible 
in  human  nature  for  them  to  be.  And  the  difficulty  to-day  in  dis- 
cerning them  is,  in  the  absence  of  accompanying  evidence,  very  great. 
It  is,  therefore,  almost  impossible  to  trace  with  precision  the  differ- 
ent elements  of  which  such  poems  as  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  are 
composed. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  ILIAD   AND  THE   ODYSSEY 

1.  Special  Importance  of  the  Iliad  and  Odyssey.  2.  Priority  of  the  Iliad.  Its 
Subject.  Analysis.  3.  General  Aspect.  Unity  and  Inconsistencies.  For- 
mation. 4.  Beauty  as  a  Whole.  Extent  and  Variety.  General  Harmony. 
5.  Keligious  and  Heroic  Character.  Naive  Religious  Faith.  Gods  and  Men. 
The  Ideal  and  the  Real.  Moral  Tone.  G.  Form.  Speeches,  Narrations, 
and  Descriptions.  Style  and  Language.  7.  Second  Period  of  Greek  Epic. 
Subject  of  the  Odyssey.  Analysis.  8.  Structure.  Unity.  Formation. 
9.  Beauty  as  a  Whole.  Extent  and  Variety.  Enhancement  of  Interest. 
Slight  Monotony  of  Invention.  10.  Religion  of  the  Odyssey.  The  Mar- 
vellous Element.  Greater  Realism  of  Certain  Parts.  Some  of  the  Person- 
ages. Moral  Tone,  11.  Form.  Style  and  Language.  12.  Conclusions 
respecting  the  Two  Homeric  Poems.  The  Two  Poems  aud  their  Time. 
Their  Influence. 

1.  Special  Importance  of  the  /Had  and  Odyssey. — During  the 
period  which  has  just  been  marked  out  and  characterized,  great 
numbers  of  poems  and  groups  of  poems  Avere  certainly  produced. 
And  this  great  production  of  epic  was  demanded  by  the  state  of 
men's  minds,  and  favored  by  the  abundance  of  heroic  legends.  But 
of  all  the  works  of  this  time,  two  only  have  survived,  the  Iliad  and 
the  Odyssey.  It  appears,  too,  that,  very  early  in  their  history,  they 
ecli})sed  all  the  others.  This  high  rank  they  owed  in  part  to  the 
firmer  way  in  which  they  were  composed  and  to  the  beauties  of 
superior  invention ;  but  they  owed  it,  too,  to  the  nature  of  the  sul> 
ject,  which  allowed  two  aspects,  or  phases,  of  heroic  life  to  be  set 
forth  in  singularly  interesting  poems.  Yet  it  would  be  an  illusion 
to  believe  that  these  poems,  at  the  time  of  their  appearance,  were 
everything,  and  the  others  nothing.  We  must  admit,  on  the  con- 
trary, that  among  so  many  Avorks  now  lost  forever,  or  forgotten 
soon  after  their  appearance,  some  had  great  merit.  The  IJittd  and 
the  Odyssey  are,  then,  the  products  of  two  or  three  centuries  of 
jioetic  composition  ;  and  to  appreciate  them  aright,  one  must  think 
of  them  as  preeminent  in  a  luxurious  growth  of  poetry,  from  which, 
in  the  course  of  time,  they  were  detached. 

Indeed,  it  is  just  because  they  sprang  from  a  broad  and  pro 
found  movement  of  Greek  thought  that  their  part  in  the  literary 

18 


The  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  19 

history  of  Greece  was  so  important.  They  are  the  earliest  works 
that  showed  in  such  remarkable  brilliance  the  characteristic  features 
of  Greek  genius,  while,  at  the  same  time,  they  confirmed  and  defined 
these  features.  We  must  consider  them  especially  from  such  a 
point  of  view,  and  endeavor  to  discover  in  them  the  origin  of  Hel- 
lenic literature. 

A.  —  The  Iliad''- 

2.    Priority  of  the  Iliad.     Its   Subject.     Analysis.  —  Of  the  two 

poems  in  question,  the  Iliad  is  undoubtedly  the  more  ancient.  Its 
ideas,  manners,  and  language  are  so ;  and  it  has  been  imitated  in  a 
number  of  passages  of  the  Odyssey. 

Its  subject  is  drawn  from  the  Trojan  War.  We  cannot  say 
to-day  just  how  much  truth  there  is  in  the  legend  it  relates ; 
but  beyond  doubt  there  existed  in  pre-Hellenic  times  a  Dar- 
danian  city  on  the  shores  of  the  Hellespont,  which  was  again 
and  again  at  war  with  the  tribes  then  living  in  Greece ;  and  its 
fortifications,  of  which,  in  our  day,  fortunately.  Dr.  Schliemann  has 
succeeded  in  disclosing  the  remains,  were  destroyed  by  a  conflagra- 
tion. All  this  gave  rise  to  a  legend  in  which  the  facts  were  arranged 
and  somewhat  exaggerated.  We  have  seen  already  how  much  the 
iEolic  emigration  must  have  favored  this.  In  the  tenth  century,  it 
was  the  war  which  furnished  the  greater  number  of  chants  to  the 
^olic  and  Ionic  bards.  The  Iliad  tells  us  of  but  a  very  little  part 
of  the  war,  a  single  episode ;  and  it  constantly  alludes  to  other  epi- 
sodes as  if  they  were  already  known  by  all. 

The  following  is,  in  brief,  the  content  of  the  poem.  In  the 
tenth  year  of  the  war  a  violent  quarrel  breaks  out  between  Agamem- 
non, king  of  Argos  and  commander  of  the  army,  and  the  young 
Thessalian  chief,  Achilles.      Agamemnon,  in  his  anger,  has  taken 

*  Editions  :  Hoyne,  Ilompri  Carmina,  cum  versione  Latina  et  annotatione, 
9  vols.,  Leipsic,  1802-1 8-22  ;  G.  Diiidorf,  Ilomeri  Carminn,  with  a  Latin  trans- 
lation, Paris,  Didot,  18.37;  W.  Christ,  Iliadis  Carmina,  Leipsic,  1884,  text  edi- 
tion with  important  prolegomena ;  Ameis  u.  Ilentze,  Ilomeri  Ilias,  Leipsic, 
1884-188(5,  2  vols,  of  text  and  2  vols,  of  appendices, — a  well-annotated  edition 
with  discussion  of  the  princijjal  ciuestions  in  the  appendices  ;  G.  Dindorf,  Ilomeri 
Ilias.  y>ih  ed. ,  revised  by  llentze,  Leipsic,  Toubner,  1880;  Van  Leuwen  and 
Da  Costa,  Leyden,  181)7,  4  vols.,  — a  critical  edition. 

Scholia  and  Lexicons  :  The  Commentary  of  Eustathius,  ed.  Stallbaum, 
4  vols.,  Leipsic,  1827-1830;  G.  Dindorf,  Scholia  Groeca  in  Iliadem,  4  vols., 
Leipsic,  1875-1877,  completed  by  K.  Maass,  2  vols.  (V  and  VI).  Si'kciai,  Lexi- 
cons :  Autenrieth,  Homeric  Dictionary,  translated  by  Kobert  V.  Keep,  New 
York,  1882  ;  labeling.  Lexicon  Ilomericum,  2  vols.,  Leipsic,  1885. 

lio.MEKic  Gkammak  :  Monro,  A  Grammar  of  the  Homeric  Dialect,  Oxford, 
1891  ;  Smyth,  Sounds  and  Inflections  of  the  Greek  Dialects,  Oxford,  1894. 

Translations  :  (Verse)  Lord  Derby,  Bryant.  (Prose)  Iliad,  by  Lang, 
Leaf,  and  Myers,  London,  1883  ;  Odyssey,  bj'  Butcher  and  Lang,  London,  1879  ; 
and  Palmer,  Boston,  1891. 


20  Greek  Literature 

from  Achilles  a  captive,  Briseis,  who  has  been  adjudged  to  him  as  a 
reward  of  valor.  Achilles,  somewhat  irritated,  declares  that  he  will 
fight  no  longer.  And  his  mother,  the  goddess  Thetis,  whom  he 
implores  to  avenge  him,  thereupon  obtains  from  Zeus  a  promise  that 
he  will  make  the  Achaeans  pay  dearly  for  the  injury  inflicted  on  the 
young  hero.     Such  is  the  initial  situation  as  set  forth  in  Book  I.^ 

Agamemnon  then  tries  to  get  on  without  Achilles.  And  after 
various  incidents  that  retard  the  action,  he  makes  ready  to  begin  the 
conibat,  in  the  hope  at  last  of  capturing  Ilium.  But  at  this  junc- 
ture, an  arrangement,  proposed  by  Hector  on  the  field  of  battle,  is 
accepted.  The  issue  of  the  war  is  to  be  decided  by  a  duel  between 
Menelaus  and  Paris,  who  is  also  called  Alexander.  The  duel  takes 
place.  Paris,  overcome,  is  on  the  point  of  perishing,  when  Aphro- 
dite, his  protectress,  carries  him  into  the  city.  While  Menelaus 
seeks  in  vain  to  find  him,  Pandarus,  an  ally  of  the  Trojans,  notwith- 
standing the  truce  which  had  been  declared,  discharges  an  arrow  at 
Menelaus  and  wounds  him.  A  furious  battle  follows,  the  first  in 
the  poem  (Book  V  and  following).  On  the  side  of  the  Achseans, 
Diomed  covers  himself  with  glory.  A  ruinous  defeat  now  seems 
imminent  for  the  Trojans ;  but  it  is  averted.  For  Hector,  who 
had  returned  to  Troy  to  bid  the  women  conciliate  Athena  by  prayers 
and  offerings,  reappears,  after  a  touching  interview  with  his  wife, 
Andromache,  and  his  son,  Astyanax.  He  suspends  hostilities  by  an 
individual  challenge  to  the  enemy's  champions.  The  challenge  is 
accepted.  The  lot  falls  to  Ajax,  who  fights  a  hand  to  hand  combat 
with  Hector.  "While  they  are  struggling,  night  falls  and  ends  the 
duel,  whose  only  result  is  the  substitution  of  single  combat  for  the 
general  encounter.  An  armistice  is  concluded ;  the  Achseans  take 
advantage  of  it  to  bury  their  dead  and  to  surround  their  camp  with 
a  ram})art.  The  next  morning,  however,  the  battle  is  renewed.  It 
lasts  from  morning  till  night  (Book  VIII),  and  proves  disastrous  to 
the  Acha^ans.  Everywhere  they  are  thrust  back ;  and  that  even- 
ing, the  conquering   Trojans  camp  in  the  plain  near  the  rampart. 

This  closes  what  may  be  called  the  first  part  of  the  poem.  After 
many  turns  and  hesitations,  the  promise  of  Zeus  has  been  fulfilled, 
inasmuch  as  the  Achoeans  have  suffered  for  their  injury  to  Achilles. 

But  now  the  Aclueans  see  their  fault.  Agamemnon  weeps  and 
upbraids  himself;  and  even  before  daybreak,  Odysseus,  Ajax,  and 
the  aged  PlKenix  are  sent  to  Achilles  to  conciliate  him.  Odysseus 
addresses  to  him  a  touching  petition.  The  hero,  however,  remains 
quite  unmoved;  the  embassy  has  been  fruitless  (Book  IX). 

1  The  division  into  twenty-four  books  seems  not  to  go  back  beyond  the 
Alexandrian  critic  Zeuodotus,  who  lived  iu  the  third  century  b.c. 


The  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  21 

Dependent  again  on  their  own  resources,  the  Achaeans  next  night 
send  two  spies,  Odysseus  and  Diomed,  to  the  Trojan  camp.  And  at 
dawn  the  struggle  begins  again.  This  is  the  third,  and  by  far  the 
longest,  battle  of  the  Iliad.  The  account  of  it  extends  from  the  eleventh 
to  the  seventeenth  book,  although  there  are  numerous  digressions. 
After  the  defeat  of  the  Acha^ans  and  the  capture  of  their  rampart, 
the  secret  help  given  by  the  god  Poseidon  and  the  goddess  Hera 
brings  about  the  flight  of  the  Trojans ;  but  Zeus,  noticing  this,  is 
angry  and  puts  Poseidon  to  flight.  The  Trojans,  now  \'ictorious, 
rush  forward  upon  the  fleet.  The  Achseans  barely  escape  destruc- 
tion; whereupon  Patroclus,  obtaining  leave  from  Achilles,  takes 
part  in  the  combat,  and  at  the  head  of  his  Myrmidons  drives  the 
Trojans  back.  The  poet  tells  us  of  his  mighty  deeds  and  death,  of 
the  furious  combat  fought  over  his  body,  and  finally  of  the  grief  of 
Achilles,  Avho,  on  the  approach  of  darkness,  puts  the  conquerors  to 
flight  by  appearing  near  the  rampart  and  putting  forth  a  shout. 
This  group  of  events  constitutes,  as  it  were,  the  second  part  of  the 
poem. 

The  third  and  last  part  of  the  Iliad  deals  with  the  return  of 
Achilles  to  take  part  in  the  war,  and  his  vengeance  upon  Hector,  the 
slayer  of  Patroclus.  Clad  in  the  divine  armor  that  Hephaestus  made 
for  him  at  the  request  of  Thetis  (l)Ook  XVIII),  he  then  proceeds  to 
fight,  after  having  been  reconciled  with  Agamemnon,  who  restores 
iJriseis  to  him  (Book  XIX).  Then  the  gods  themselves  mutually 
defy  each  other.  The  battle  is  renewed.  The  Trojans  flee  before 
Achilles,  and  falling  into  confusion,  are  slaughtered.  Their  corpses 
are  hurled  by  Achilles  into  the  river  Xanthus,  which,  in  anger,  by 
overflowing  its  banks  and  pursuing  him  with  its  floods,  all  but 
drowns  him.  Hephaestus,  however,  undertakes  the  defence  of  the 
hero :  the  god's  fires  compel  the  river  to  withdraw.  Achilles  arrives 
before  the  gates  of  Troy.  Every  one  has  passed  within ;  Hector 
alone  has  dared  to  brave  him  before  the  Scaean  Gate.  Yet  at  the 
sight  of  Achilles,  the  valiant  Trojan,  terror-stricken,  takes  to  flight. 
])0th  hurry  three  times  around  the  walls.  At  last,  the  Trojan, 
deceived  by  Athena,  halts  for  a  struggle.  He  is  slain  before  the 
eyes  of  his  parents;  and  from  the  top  of  the  wall,  Androuiache,  his 
wife,  sees  his  corpse  dragged  along  beneath  the  chariot  of  the  con- 
queror. The  struggle  of  the  two  heroes  is  the  subject  of  the  twenty- 
second  book.  In  the  twenty-third,  Achilles  celebrates  the  funeral 
games  of  Patroclus.  In  the  twenty-fourtli,  tlie  aged  Priam  comes  at 
night  to  reclaim  the  body  of  his  son;  Achilles,  in  pity,  grants  his 
wish;  and  the  poem  closes  with  an  account  of  the  funeral  ceremonies 
of  the  Trojan  hero,  Hector. 


22  Greek  Literature 

3.  General  Aspect.  The  Unity  and  the  Inconsistencies  of  the  Poem. 
Manner  of  its  Composition.^ — If  one  follows  carefully  this  long  nar- 
rative from  end  to  end,  it  is  difficult  to  escape  either  of  two  contrary 
impressions.  One  is  struck  by  a  certain  unity,  really  deep  and 
intimate,  which  makes  the  poem  a  whole;  yet,  at  every  turn,  this 
unity  is  violated  in  the  details  of  the  work,  now  by  certain  digres- 
sions which  are  hard  to  explain,  now  by  the  unlikeness  of  the 
different  parts.  According  as  one  or  the  other  of  these  impressions 
has  dominated  contemporary  criticism,  the  Iliad  has  been  attributed 
entire  to  a  single  poet,  or  regarded  as  the  work  of  a  succession  of 
bards,  as  a  product  formed  from  poems  originally  distinct.  Further- 
more, each  of  these  theories  may  be  regarded  from  various  points  of 
view,  and  thus  come  to  seem  really  not  so  different  as  they  appear  at 
first.  We  need  not  enter  here  into  the  details  of  the  discussions 
which  they  have  called  forth.  But  to  demonstrate  what  seems  true 
to  us,  we  need  to  formulate  the  two  contrary  impressions,  and  then 
sketch  roughly  the  legitimate  grounds  of  each. 

The  fundamental  unity  of  the  Iliad  is  incontestable.  It  con- 
sists essentially  in  this  :  the  poem  does  not  recount  a  series  of  events 
falling  between  two  dates,  after  the  manner  of  the  annalists, 
but  turns  upon  a  moral  situation,  the  anger  of  Achilles.  It  tells 
us  how  the  anger  arose,  what  its  phases  and  immediate  conse- 
quences were,  and  how  it  was  appeased.  This  is  the  central,  domi- 
nating thought.  Achilles  is  not  always  present,  by  any  means.  But 
he  reappears  at  important  moments  which  are  connected  with  one 
another  by  continuity  of  sentiment.  When  he  is  absent,  his  very 
absence  is  one  of  the  chief  elements  of  the  situation ;  things  would 
go  otherwise,  were  he  there.  It  is  because  he  is  not  there  and  others 
are  striving  to  take  his  place,  that  the  gods  are  prevailed  upon  to 
intervene,  and  that,  in  a  word,  the  events  are  what  they  are.  So 
the  secondary  episodes  are  not  merely  inserted,  but  in  a  way  domi- 
nated and  inspired  by  the  principal  one.  The  parts  in  which 
Achilles  is  an  actor,  at  least  the  most  essential  of  them,  have  certain 
common  features  —  grandeur,  pure  force,  boldness  —  which   would 

'  Consult  Wolf,  ProUfjompna  ad  Homprnvi  (1704),  reedited  in  1805  for 
Calvary  and  Co.,  Berlin;  Lachniann.  BftrnrhUuifjon  ilher  Homers  Ilias  (1837 
and  1841),  revised  by  M.  Haupt,  Berlin,  1876;  Kochly,  Homer  unci  das  grie- 
chisr/tf  Epos  (Zeitschr.  f.  d.  Altertnmstr..  1848)  ;  Nitzsch,  De  Ilistorin  Homeri, 
Hanover,  1H.3()_1837  ;  Die  Sa(/enpoesie  der  Grierhen,  Leipsic.  1852;  Grote, 
Histonj  of  Greere,  vol.  II  ;  Baundein,  P/u7o/.,  vol.  VII,  pp.  225-288;  Volkmann, 
Gesrhirhte  nnd  Kritik  der  Wolfscheti  Prolegomena  zu  Homer,  Leipsic,  1874  ; 
Boufjot.  I^tnde  sur  Vlliade  d'Hnnere,  Paris,  1888  :  Bonitz.  Ueher  der  Ursprnng 
der  homerisrhen  Gedichte.  5th  ed..  Vienna,  1881  ;  W,  Christ,  Iliadis  Carmtna, 
Leipsic.  1884,  prolt-uoniena ;  \Vilamo\vitz-Mf>llfndnvf,  Homerische  Unter- 
surhnngen.  Berlin,  1884  ;  P.  Cauer,  Grundfragen  der  Homerkritik,  Leipsic, 
1805. 


The  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  23 

seem  to  prove  their  common  origin.  Therefore,  not  to  attribute  to 
one  and  the  same  poet,  whom  we  have  called  Homer,  at  least  the 
dominant  conception,  from  which  all  the  rest  was  developed,  and 
also  the  composition  of  the  more  important  parts,  seems  impossible. 

But  the  contrary  impression,  having  likewise  its  force  and  legiti- 
macy, must  be  considered  in  any  explanation  of  the  poem's  form. 
Some  details  are  inconsistent  with  the  rest,  or  else  are  not  brought  in 
well,  or  even  contradict  other  statements.  One  may  cite  as  ex- 
amples :  the  review  held  by  Agamemnon  in  the  second  book ;  the 
Catalogue  of  the  Ships,  which  is  quite  out  of  harmony  with  the 
poem ;  the  truce  formed  in  the  third  book  to  be  broken  in  the  fourth ; 
the  inconsistencies  of  the  first  battle ;  the  ill-justified  construction 
of  the  rampart ;  the  tameness  of  the  second  battle ;  the  loose  con- 
nection of  the  embassy,  which  ill  agrees  with  the  first  book  and 
with  the  sixteenth  ;  the  digression  of  the  Lay  of  Dolon ;  the  tedium 
of  the  third  battle,  in  the  midst  of  which  Patrochis,  sent  by  Achilles 
for  information,  forgets  his  mission  ;  the  excessive  length  of  the 
account  of  the  fourth  battle ;  the  commonplaceness  of  the  Con- 
flict of  the  Gods ;  the  abuse  of  epic  machinery  in  describing  that  con- 
flict ;  and  finally  the  difference  of  character  in  the  last  book.  And 
to  these  divergencies,  which  are  due  to  differences  in  the  elements 
that  compose  the  poem,  must  be  added  incongruities  of  detail  in  the 
language  and  style,  in  the  manner  of  relating  and  composing,  and 
sometimes  in  expressions  of  taste,  ideas,  or  sentiments.  If,  then,  in 
spite  of  these  differences,  one  is  determined  to  attribute  the  entire 
work  to  a  single  poet,  it  would  be  necessary  to  admit  —  and  this 
admission  is  allowed  almost  vmiversally  by  the  partisans  of  the 
opinion  —  that  the  poet,  so  far  from  composing  the  Iliad  at  a  single 
effort,  following  the  present  order  of  the  parts,  made  it  in  a  number 
of  successive  efforts,  beginning  with  certain  of  the  important  epi- 
sodes, adding  others  here  and  there,  and  as  it  advanced,  constantly 
recast  and  retouched  the  work  ;  and  then,  after  he  had  finished, 
it  received  various  additions  and  interpolations.  But,  modified  to 
such  an  extent,  the  theory  loses  its  distinctive  character.  For  the 
admission  that  the  poem  may  have  existed  during  a  longer  or  shorter 
period  in  an  unfinished  condition,  as  a  mere  group  of  disconnected 
chants,  and  that  such  was  the  form  under  which  it  came  to  popular- 
ity, leaves  this  theory  not  very  dissimilar  to  the  first  one  mentioned ; 
and  so  it  cannot  ask  to  be  considered  as  essentially  different,  except 
we  grant  it  a  great  number  of  improbabilities.  ■ — 

Owing  to  the  inherent  uncertainties  of  the  case,  then,  every 
assertion  as  to  the  authorship  of  the  Iliad  must  be  weakened  by 
doubts  and  reservations,  and  can  have,  in  short,  only  the  value  of  a 


24  Greek  Literature 

more  or  less  probable  hypothesis.  That  which  seems  to  us  most 
likely,  in  view  of  the  indications  of  the  poem  itself  and  of  general 
probability,  would  be  something  like  the  following :  The  talented 
bard  whom  we  call  Homer  composed  at  the  beginning  the  first  chant, 
almost  as  we  have  it  to-day.  It  was  a  detached  lay,  like  others  then 
current.  What  made  it  seem  original  was  that,  instead  of  relating  a 
series  of  events,  or  describing  a  military  adventure,  it  represented, 
with  admirable  force,  a  moral  situation.  This  was  a  fruitful  situ- 
ation, in  that  it  implied  certain  necessary  consequences.  In  other 
words,  the  scene  representing  the  quarrel  contained  the  germ  of 
other  scenes,  which,  perhaps,  tradition  had  already  partly  developed, 
but  which  henceforth  drew  to  itself  a  keener  interest,  and  so  it  was 
natural  that  this  situation  should  be  completed.  Homer  composed 
certain  scenes  into  a  series  of  distinct  chants,  which  ordinarily  were 
to  be  recited  separately,  but  which  were  connected  by  belonging  to 
the  same  legend  and  by  their  continuity  of  idea.  These  chants, 
composed  at  different  times  and  probably  not  in  their  present  order, 
did  not  necessarily  agree  in  all  details,  because  the  poet  treated  each 
scene  for  its  own  sake  merely,  and  according  to  the  inspiration  of 
the  moment.  But,  once  made,  they  constituted  a  group  that  formed 
a  complete  poem  in  that  it  represented  from  beginning  to  end  a 
single  ''  action,"  the  development  of  a  moral  situation.  Thus,  in  gen- 
eral, was  gathered  the  material  which  })roduced  the  Iliad.  These 
primitive  chants  exist  in  the  completed  poem,  of  which  they  form, 
as  it  were,  the  framework.  But,  by  a  series  of  successive  operations, 
they  were  mingled  with  others,  after  being  retouched  or  abridged  in 
certain  parts.  Therefore  it  is  impossible  to-day  to  separate  them 
from  the  rest,  or  even  to  fix  upon  them  with  certainty.  It  appears, 
however,  that  the  kernel  comprised  essentially :  the  Quarrel  (Book  I) ; 
the  Defeat  of  the  Achaeans  (Book  XI);  the  Embassy  (Book  IX), 
greatly  altered,  however ;  the  Intervention  and  Death  of  Patroclus 
(Book  XVI) ;  and  the  Combat  of  Achilles  and  Hector  (Book  XXII). 
Of  course  the  primitive  chants  do  not  correspond  exactly  with  the 
present  books.  They  may  have  been  longer  or  shorter,  and  it  is  use- 
less to  attempt  to-day  to  find  the  beginning  and  closing  verses  of 
the  chants  beneath  the  layers  of  casual  poetry  with  which  they  have 
been  covered. 

But  a])art  from  these  chants,  Homer  may  have  composed  others 
relating  to  the  war  with  Troy,  and  especially  to  what  the  Acha?ans 
did  in  the  absence  of  Achilles.  Recommending  themselves  by  the 
same  beauties  as  distinguished  the  preceding  chants  and  being  sung 
by  the  same  school  of  bards,  they  must  have  tended  to  become  in- 
corporated with  tlie  group  treating  of  the  Anger  of  Achilles.     And 


The  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  25 

this  incorporation  was  doubtless  one  of  the  main  causes  contribut- 
ing to  augment  the  group.  The  Iliad  may,  therefore,  have  in  it, 
besides  the  lays  already  mentioned,  some  others  emanating  from 
the  poet  Homer. 

Yet  that  which  must  above  everything  else  have  brought  the 
poem  to  its  final  form  was  the  emulation  of  those  bards  who  devoted 
themselves  to  it  for  centuries.  To  retain  the  favor  of  the  public, 
they  needed  continually  to  renew  this  fund  of  poetry.  In  order  to 
inspire  or  prolong  interest,  it  was  necessary  that  they  should  put 
the  parts  already  known  and  always  called  for  into  some  new  set- 
ting. Thus  the  primitive  chants  became  like  so  many  centres  of 
crystallization  about  which,  little  by  little,  epic  material  would 
gather.  Later  on,  certain  of  the  new  chants  played  the  same  role 
in  turn.  One  can  but  feel,  for  instance,  that  in  the  Iliad  as  Ave  have 
it  now,  the  eighth  book  and  the  tenth  were  formed  around  the  ninth, 
which  served  them  as  a  centre ;  and  that  the  intervention  of  Poseidon 
in  the  thirteenth,  and  that  of  Hera  in  the  fifteenth,  are  variations  of 
the  same  story,  which  was  inserted  to  retard  the  action  of  the  attack 
upon  the  fleet.  And  owing  to  such  successive  additions  the  primi- 
tive group  was  gradually  transformed  into  a  long  and  complex  series, 
whose  parts,  however  loosely  joined,  retained  a  fundamental  unity, 
because  that  unity  belonged  to  the  original  material.  The  practice 
of  the  rhapsodists  of  giving  lengthy  recitations  at  certain  festivals 
promoted  this  spontaneoHs  work  of  organization. 

In  such  form  the  Iliad  must  have  been  transmitted  down  to  the 
sixth  century.  In  the  main  it  had  been  composed  ;  but  it  still  needed 
to  undergo  complete  revision.  At  this  time  it  received  in  Athens, 
under  the  influence  of  Solon  and  Pisistratus,  a  generous  welcome,  of 
which  we  shall  have  more  to  say  later  (see  p.  53).  It  was  made  part 
of  the  programme  of  certain  festivals  and  subjected  to  their  ordinances. 
With  a  characteristic  sense  of  order  and  harmony,  the  splendid 
city  no  longer  allowed  the  rhapsodists  to  present  isolated  chants, 
but  compelled  them  to  recite  the  lays  of  the  Iliad  in  the  order  of 
the  occurrences,  so  that  the  successive  recitations  should  manifest 
a  continuous  development.  This  does  not  mean,  as  some  have  said, 
that  at  the  yearly  Panathenaa,  the  poem  was  necessarily  recited  in 
its  entirety ;  but  simply  that,  thenceforward,  the  portions  recited 
followed  one  another  in  a  settled  order.  The  very  establishment 
of  this  order  necessarily  brought  into  relief  certain  lacuna^,  in- 
coherences, and  instances  of  double  usage  never  before  perceived.  It 
was  necessary  to  submit  the  whole  poem  to  a  revision  that  would 
remove  these  blemishes.  The  different  portions  were,  at  the  dicta- 
tion of  the  rhapsodists,  reduced  to  writing  in  their  natural  order. 


26  Greek  Literature 

the  incoherencies  were  smoothed  out,  contradictory  passages  or  in- 
congruous parts  were  slightly  weakened  or  modified,  and  in  this  way 
was  constituted,  for  the  first  time,  a  complete  and  well-organized 
text.  This  text,  with  certain  corrections  of  petty  detail  due  to 
the  grammarians  of  the  ages  following,  has  been  transmitted  to  our 
own  days. 

4.  Beauty  as  a  Whole.  Extent  and  Variety.  General  Harmony.  — 
As  it  stands  to-day,  the  Iliad  as  a  whole  possesses  a  beauty  that  is 
due  to  the  unity  of  the  poem  —  a  charm  quite  apart  from  the  superior 
excellences  of  certain  passages.  If  one  considers  the  whole  poem, 
the  chief  episodes  easily  link  themselves  to  one  another,  and  group 
themselves  together,  as  it  were,  for  the  production  of  a  short,  strong 
action.  So,  despite  the  tediousness  of  certain  parts,  the  whole  has 
a  simplicity  and  balance  that  are  truly  Greek.  Its  unity,  moreover, 
is  neither  crude  nor  abstract.  It  is  difficult  of  comprehension  in  a 
single  formula;  for  the  poem  first  brings  before  us  the  anger  of 
Achilles  against  the  Achseans,  and  then  shows  how  that  anger  is 
turned  against  the  Trojans.  Hence  the  unity,  though  not  con- 
sistent from  a  logical  point  of  view,  is  flexible  and  lifelike.  It  is 
that  of  the  heart  of  its  hero ;  it  is  unconcerned  about  both  the 
causes  and  the  object  of  his  anger,  yet  not  about  the  anger  itself. 
The  Biad,  in  its  essential  theme,  is  the  picture  of  an  outburst  of 
passion,  which  overcame  the  spirit  of  the  greatest  hero  celebrated  by 
poetic  fancy. 

The  story,  too,  constantly  goes  beyond  the  limits  of  this  theme. 
The  name  of  the  poem  is  sufficient  indication  of  the  part  in  its 
development  played  by  the  Trojan  War.  There  is,  doubtless,  a 
superabundance  and,  occasionally,  some  disproportion  of  the  parts. 
Stories  of  combat  are  multiplied  to  excess.  They  seem  long  to  us, 
and  probably  appeared  so  to  the  Greeks  themselves,  after  the  Iliad 
had  been  made  into  a  whole,  and  especially  after  the  reading  of  it 
became  common.  This  undeniable  fault  is  due  to  the  manner  of  its 
comj)()sition.  It  is  the  result  of  the  successive  additions  that  made 
the  poem  what  it  is.  liut  these  very  additions  contributed  not  a 
little  to  give  the  poem  its  national  popularity;  for,  owing  to  the 
descriptions  of  combats,  it  forms  a  complete  representation  of  the 
military  customs  of  primitive  Greece.  It  could  be  considered  an 
abridged  liistory  of  the  war  with  Troy,  and  as  such  it  was  given 
a  unique  place  among  the  numuments  of  tlie  past.  From  the  point 
of  view  of  art,  the  neglect  of  the  original  theme  in  parts  of  the  Hiwl 
is  not  witliout  com})ensation.  One  of  the  charms  of  the  poem  is  its 
variety :  and  this  would  have  l)een  impossible  except  for  the  free- 
dom of  its  composition.     Amid  scenes  of  military  fury  and  massacre. 


The  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  27 

the  eye  rests  upon  pictures  of  a  quite  different  nature :  the  tumul- 
tuous assembly  of  the  second  book ;  the  review  of  Agamemnon ; 
Helen  on  the  rampart ;  the  visit  of  Hector  to  Hecuba,  Helen,  and 
Andromache ;  the  arrival  of  the  chariot  of  Poseidon  from  across  the 
sea ;  the  enforced  sleep  of  Zeus  on  Mount  Ida ;  his  awakening  and 
his  anger;  the  conversation  of  Patroclus  and  Achilles;  the  latter's 
sorrow ;  the  welding  of  his  wonderful  arms ;  the  overflowing  of  the 
Xanthus  ;  the  funeral  games  in  honor  of  Patroclus;  the  supplication 
of  the  aged  Priam  at  the  feet  of  his  enemy.  Thus,  on  a  background 
uniformly  sombre,  poetic  fancy  has  woven  a  whole  succession  of 
episodes,  continually  renewing  the  reader's  interest  and  winning 
his  attention. 

The  episodes  differ  in  tone  as  well  as  in  subject ;  and  if  one  looks 
closer,  in  manner  also.  J5ut  these  dissimilarities  are  in  the  end 
fused  into  a  pleasing  harmony  which  satisfies  the  taste.  This 
harmony  may  be  explained  by  the  fact  that  the  separate  parts 
are,  after  all,  born  of  the  same  artistic  tradition,  and  so  one  is 
inclined  to  think  oftener  of  their  common  likeness  than  of  their 
differences.  Epic  art,  as  we  have  sketched  it  in  rough  outline,  —  the 
art  whose  characteristics  we  shall  now  try  to  set  forth  as  they  are 
represented  in  the  Iliad,  —  saw  the  twilight  of  its  evening  early,  in 
proportion  as  lyric  and  dramatic  poetry  developed.  In  this  twilight, 
it  took  on  a  deeper  tinge  of  uniformity  and  a  fundamental  harmony. 
In  the  distance,  slight  tints  are  lost  sight  of  and  only  pronounced 
colors  strike  the  eye. 

5.  Religious  and  Heroic  Character.  Naive  Religious  Faith.  Gods 
and  Men.  The  Ideal  and  the  Real.  Moral  Tone.^  —  One  of  the  things 
in  the  Iliad  which  strikes  the  modern  reader  at  the  outset  is  the  im- 
portant part  which  the  gods  take  in  the  action.  They  are  every- 
where present.  The  poet  does  not  conceive  any  event  of  importance 
except  as  brought  about  by  the  will  of  some  god,  and  as  having  its 
counterpart  in  the  celestial  world.  In  this  respect,  his  work  is 
deeply  religious,  for  it  implies  a  naive  faith  in  higher  powers  who 
encompass  the  whole  of  human  life,  stirring  the  depths  of  man's 
heart  and  determining  his  actions  as  they  will.  Mortal  men  in 
the  Iliad  are  ephemeral  and  feeble  beings,  doomed  to  suffering 
and  death,  without  force  of  character  and  without  hope  of  success, 
except  through  the  help  of  their  divine  protectors. 

1  Consult  Xagel.sbach,  Dip  homerische  Thoolnc/ie,  Nuremberg,  1840  ; 
J.  Girard.  Lr  Smthncnt  rrligieHX  en  Greet',  Paris,  Hachette.  1809  (2(1  ed..  1879)  ; 
Gladstone,  Juvoitiis  Mundi,  London,  18(59 ;  Bucliholz,  Homerische  liealifn. 
sup.  cit.  II r.  i)art  1  ;  V.  Cauer,  (Trvnilfrn(jen,  etc..  sup.  cit. ;  K.  C.  Jcbb,  Intro- 
dnctifni  to  Homer,  Lond(Mi  and  New  York,  1892  ;  Walter  Leaf,  A  Companion  to 
the  Iliad,  London  and  New  York,  1892. 


28  Greek  Literature 

Yet  the  poem,  so  full  of  faith  and  respect  for  the  gods,  aims  not 
at  any  theological  purpose.  There  is  never  the  slightest  attempt  to 
clarify  popular  notions  about  religious  matters.  The  gods  are 
depicted  as  eminently  beautiful  and  happy,  yet  as  violent,  pas- 
sionate, often  unjust,  and  even  false.  They  are  exempt  from  death, 
but  not  from  suffering ;  for  they  are  liable  to  wounds  and  punish- 
ment. Divided  into  two  camps,  they  have  their  favorites,  quarrel, 
threaten  one  another,  and  even  fight.  Jealousy,  hatred,  cunning, 
and  bad  faith  are  frequent  motives  with  them.  Those  that  are 
powerful  terrify  the  others.  Some  of  the  goddesses  have  masculine 
hearts ;  while  others  are  timid,  and  weep  and  tremble.  Zeus,  as 
sovereign  of 'Olympus,  rules  them  through  fear.  The  others  dread 
him  and  yet  deceive  him  on  occasion.  The  supreme  pleasure  of  these 
immortals  is  that  of  banqueting  in  their  celestial  palace.  They  are, 
on  the  whole,  rather  coarse,  even  inferior  to  the  heroes  in  moral 
worth,  but  mighty  and  formidable,  and  excellent  as  epic  personages 
by  reason  of  their  grandeur  and  their  passions.  To  us,  all  this 
seems,  and  really  is,  very  naive.  Such  a  religious  faith  belongs  to 
minds  which  philosophic  reflection  has  not  yet  touched  and  in  which 
first  impressions  are  accepted  without  question.  The  men  of  the 
times,  poets  and  people,  in  many  ways  seem  like  overgrown  children. 
Yet  one  of  the  merits  of  this  poetry  is  that  it  reveals  to  us  so  clearly 
an  ancient  state  of  society.  There  is  no  more  theology  in  the  general 
plan  than  in  the  painting  of  details.  Except  for  now  and  then  a 
sombre  reflection  about  human  destiny,  the  poet  offers  no  opinion 
concerning  the  general  march  of  events.  He  raises  no  religious 
problem.  He  utters  no  word  of  curiosity  about  the  supernatural. 
His  religion,  of  course,  is  everywhere  present;  but  incidents  are  not 
related  to  demonstrate  its  truth.  The  poet's  interest  is  human 
'  throughout,  however  great  the  part  the  gods  have  in  the  story. 

To  show  truthfully  what  the  renown,  courage,  strength,  sufferings, 
and  passions  of  the  heroes  have  brought  about,  that  is  his  unique 
purpose.  He  is  by  vocation  the  interpreter  of  heroic  life.  What 
we  must  see  in  his  picture  above  all  is  the  happily  proportioned 
mixture  of  the  real  with  the  ideal  which  was  ever  the  supreme 
desire  of  Greek  genius. 

The  heroes  of  the  Iliad  are  human  to  the  profoundest  depths  of 
their  nature  —  true,  however,  not  to  a  conventional  humanity,  but  to 
that  of  their  time,  which,  in  its  essential  elements,  is  like  our  own, 
except  that  it  is  more  artless.  They  have  our  passions,  petty  and 
noble,  our  weaknesses  and  our  miseries;  but  they  are  less  adroit 
than  we  in  concealing  them.  They  are  now  generous  and  now 
selfish;  at  times,   tlitMr  (nily  thought  is  for  the  public  weal,  honor, 


The  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  29 

and  duty ;  then,  again,  they  are  wholly  occupied  with  themselves. 
They  have  moments  of  fitfulness  that  are  absolutely  true  to  nature. 
Their  impetuous  bravery,  their  love  of  combat,  their  wish  to  make 
themselves  illustrious,  are  natural ;  but  these  qualities  do  not  free 
them  from  the  dread  of  death  and  suffering,  nor  from  occasional 
moments  of  terror.  The  affections  that  sway  the  human  heart, 
whether  noble  or  commonplace,  appear  in  them  with  as  much  power 
as  sublimity.  They  love  their  native  land,  their  parents  and  children, 
and  all  the  companions  of  their  daily  life,  with  tenderness ;  they 
love,  too,  honor  and  riches,  good  fortune  and  pleasure.  In  a  word, 
they  are  men  in  the  completest  sense  of  the  term.  No  poem  offers 
a  greater  variety  of  natural  sentiment  than  the  Iliad.  The  whole- 
heartedness  of  all  the  personages  is  admirable. 

The  psychology  of  the  characters  is  not,  as  a  rule,  complex. 
The  human  heart,  indeed,  has  never  been  quite  simple  ;  and  if  poetry, 
even  the  most  primitive,  were  to  represent  men  as  alike  in  disposi- 
tion, it  would  lose  all  semblance  of  truth.  But  the  men  of  the  Iliad 
are  at  least  relatively  simple,  and  this  is  the  reason  why  they  make 
impressions  on  us.  Their  impulses  are  strong,  their  motives  not 
numerous,  their  deliberations  brief  and  quickly  developed  in  action, 
with  seldom  a  scruple  or  anxious  hesitation.  Herein  the  moral 
painting  of  the  poem  is  rather  primitive ;  yet  though  the  simplicity 
is  sometimes  childlike,  it  gives  proof  of  depth  and  force  of  thinking. 
The  sentiments,  though  not  complex,  come  from  the  bottom  of  the 
heart,  wholly  filling  it.  For  the  very  reason  that  they  are  not  com- 
plicated, they  appeal  frankly  to  our  sympathies  with  the  artless  cry 
of  nature. 

Such,  in  this  ingenuous  poetry,  is  the  part  of  realism.  It  is 
important,  as  it  furnishes  invention  with  its  material  ;  yet  the 
result  obtained  is  due  to  a  keen  sense  of  the  ideal. 

The  description  of  the  characters  of  the  Iliad  is  ideal  in  two 
respects.  By  the  elimination  of  minute  details,  Homeric  art  sum- 
marily ])aints  moral  character,  as  well  as  physical  a})pearance. 
Almost  all  the  personages  have  some  characteristic  trait;  for 
example,  the  youthful  fire  of  Achilles,  the  wisdom  of  Nestor,  the 
royal  majesty  of  Agamemnon,  the  constancy  of  Ajax,  the  impatient 
valor  of  Diomed,  the  faithful  and  determined  firmness  of  Odysseus. 
And  this  character,  defined  by  traditional  e])itliets  often  repeated,  is 
brought  into  just  so  much  more  striking  relief  because  it  is  less 
obscured  by  subsidiary  traits.  This  very  fact  raises  the  ])ersonages 
above  mere  vulgar  reality.  Each  one  is  distinguished  from  the 
throng  by  something  that  ennobles  him.  But  this  nobleness  is  due 
particularly  to  another  cause,  the  moral  worth   of  these  legendary 


30  Greek  Literature 

beings.  Whatever  their  faults  and  weaknesses,  they  are  all  of  a 
superior  order  of  humanity.  The  poet  considers  them  as  belonging 
to  times  gone  by  and  as  inferior  only  to  the  gods.  Their  physique 
partakes  of  divine  beauty,  force,  and  agility ;  their  moral  nature  par- 
takes of  divine  "  virtue,"  dpcTT/,  in  the  primitive  sense  of  the  word  — 
an  excellence  due  to  qualities  eminently  manly,  like  boldness  and 
endurance,  and  also  to  reason,  force  of  speech,  and  a  lofty  sentiment 
of  honor.  They  are  noble  specimens  of  the  Hellenic  type.  They 
all  have  a  liberty  of  action,  which  is  the  more  admirable,  since  it  is 
prudent  and  capable  of  moderation  when  circumstances  require. 

And  so  out  of  this  fact  rises  the  moral  tone  of  the  poem.  The 
Greeks  of  later  centuries  felt  that  moral  tone  keenly ;  indeed,  they 
made  too  much  of  it  —  especially  the  philosophers  —  by  attributing 
to  the  bards  designs  of  instruction  quite  foreign  to  their  thought. 
Homer  certainly  never  intended  to  teach  lessons,  yet  his  poem  uncon- 
sciously does  so,  merely  because  it  is  at  once  real  and  ideal.  It  is, 
in  heroic  form,  a  striking  picture  of  humanity,  and  therefore  a  con- 
tinuous series  of  scenes  of  warning  and  admonition.  These  not 
only  provoke  reflection,  but  also,  owing  to  the  inspiration  animating 
them,  strengthen  every  generous  motive  of  the  human  soul. 

6.  Form.  Speeches,  Narrations,  and  Description.  Style  and 
Language.  —  Though  in  form  the  Iliad,  like  all  epic  poems,  is  a  long 
narration,  yet  the  personages  are  constantly  brought  before  us. 
They  take  part  in  the  dialogue  and  exchange  ideas  and  sentiments. 
Speeches,  then,  form  an  element  of  the  poem  almost  as  important  as 
the  narrations  and  descriptions.  We  ought,  at  this  point,  to  study 
both  groups. 

The  speeches  serve,  more  than  the  narrations,  to  portray 
character.  They  are  of  several  sorts  :  speeches  of  deliberation,  held 
in  the  assembly  or  the  council ;  exhortations  to  war  on  the  field  of 
l)attle,  supplications,  intimate  addresses  to  a  single  person,  and 
finally  mere  repartee.  In  the  poem,  as  in  the  real  world,  the  lan- 
guage is  adapted  to  all  the  incidents  of  life  and  so  takes  on  every 
variety  of  color.  We  can  point  out  here,  however,  only  its  general 
characteristics. 

The  art  of  the  poem  is  little  more  than  a  reproduction  of  nature, 
yet  art  really  is  present.  The  personages  do  not  utter  their  ideas  at 
random  ;  on  the  contrary,  they  well  know  what  words  to  begin  with, 
and  they  know  how  to  make  men  listen  —  how  to  win  their  attention. 
They  set  forth  their  arguments  in  the  order  that  seems  best  and  in 
the  form  most  appropriate  to  gain  acceptance  from  those  whom  they 
address.  If  they  have  definite  conclusions,  they  formulate  them  and 
sum  them  up  in  striking  terms.     All  this  is  the  work  of  reflection, 


The  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  31 

method,  and  experience.  There  was,  then,  as  early  as  Homer,  a  sort 
of  rhetoric ;  and  Quintilian  was  not  wholly  wrong  in  praising  it.  The 
error  to  be  avoided  consists  in  regarding  it  as  finished  ait.  It  was, 
of  course,  very  elementaiy  —  largely  matter  of  instinct.  The  argu- 
mentation, in  Homeric  speech,  is  brief  and  incomplete.  It  mentions 
reasons,  but  oftener  than  not  leaves  them  undiscussed.  It  seldom 
takes  account  of  possible  objections,  and  often  foresees  none.  The 
pathos  is  artless  and  overdrawn,  and  the  speaker  does  not  know  how 
to  prolong  or  continue  it,  nor  how  to  turn  it  to  account.  He  stops 
short  as  soon  as  he  has  said  what  occupied  his  thought  or  burdened 
his  heart.  He  lacks  the  power  of  analysis.  He  sees  things  as  a 
whole,  and  is  content  with  his  first  impression,  which,  though  well- 
founded  and  clear,  is  not  yet  capable  of  analyzing  its  object. 

The  real  merit  of  these  discourses  lies  in  the  fact  that  it  reveals 
the  natures  of  those  who  deliver  them.  In  this  respect,  nearly  every 
one  of  them  is  admirable.  When  Achilles  speaks,  in  the  first  book, 
whether  to  console  Calchas  and  bid  him  proudly  fear  nothing  from 
any  one ;  or,  already  trembling,  to  complain  of  Agamemnon  to  his 
face,  while  trying  to  restrain  his  anger ;  or  to  break  out  in  curses 
and  threats :  there  is  not  a  phrase,  not  a  word,  that  does  not  betray* 
or  express  the  agitation  of  his  heart.  And  the  same  is  true  of 
all  the  great  speeches  of  the  Iliad.  Odysseus,  adroit,  persuasive, 
anxious  for  the  public  weal,  has  his  whole  soul  in  his  speech  to 
Achilles,  when  he  comes  to  find  him  in  his  tent.  The  reply  of  the 
young  hero  is  an  outburst  of  anger,  a  continuous  ebiillition  of  resent- 
ment, a  cry  of  wounded  pride.  Andromache,  beseeching  Hector  to 
remain  in  Troy,  gets  into  her  petition  a  note  of  love  and  despair,  and 
the  most  persuasive  appeal  of  feminine  tenderness,  with  the  intensity 
that  is  her  particular  strength.  Hector,  in  his  response,  discloses  all 
his  moral  grandeur  —  a  compound  of  sweetness,  pity,  tenderness||^ 
bravery,  and  honor.  Priam,  begging  the  body  of  his  son  from^F 
Achilles,  puts  into  a  few  words  all  that  such  a  situation  could  sug- 
gest to  the  heart  of  a  royal  father.  The  great  beauties  of  the  poem, 
therefore,  lie  in  its  speeches,  for  these  have  the  eloquence  of  nature,  » 
rendered  noble  by  grief  or  passion. 

Ill  the  narrative  passages,  likewise,  the  great  Homeric  quality  is 
life.  We  have  already  shown  certain  general  characteristics  of  epic 
nai'ration,  particularly  its  traditional  language.  Put  we  must  see, 
too,  that  tradition  has  in  no  way  limited  the  inventive  genius  of  the 
poet.  For  never  has  the  gift  of  seeing  and  disclosing  the  real  mean- 
ing of  things,  nor  that  of  animating  them  and  bringing  out  their  lead- 
ing features,  been  more  clearly  evident.  A  few  plain  Avords  suHico 
for  complete  characterization.     The  whole  twenty-second  book,  which 


32  Grveek  Literature 

shows  us  Hector  and  Achilles  in  their  final  struggle,  is  as  admirable 
for  its  pliant  force  as  for  its  pathos.  At  every  moment  of  the  action 
we  see  the  attitude  of  the  combatants,  their  gestures,  their  physiog- 
nomy ;  and  yet  there  is  no  detailed  description.  The  poet  needs  but 
a  word  to  make  the  image  clear  and  strong  in  our  minds.  The  de- 
sign, moreover,  though  only  a  suggestion,  is  not  sketchy.  Our  emo- 
tions rise  with  the  image.  Almost  everything  in  the  narrative  is 
touching  or  passionate.  We  are  captivated  by  the  spectacle  that 
passes  before  our  eye,  because  the  poet,  while  composing  it,  poured 
into  it  his  heart.  Without  ever  bringing  himself  into  view,  he  con- 
sciously fills  it  with  pity,  fury,  horror,  or  exultation.  The  sentiment 
of  the  throng  is  as  well  known  to  him  as  that  of  the  individual.  He 
shows  us  the  assembly  or  the  battle-field,  with  the  glory  of  victory 
or  the  humiliation  of  defeat.  He  pictures  tumultuous  movements, 
bursts  of  enthusiasm,  moments  of  bewilderment,  transports  of  joy, 
and  the  breathless  hurry  of  escape. 

The  composition  of  these  narratives,  as  we  have  seen,  is  far 
removed  from  any  severe  method  or  system.  There  are  prolixities 
and  digressions.  It  is  none  the  less  ti*ue,  however,  that,  under  a  form 
still  primitive,  the  truest  artistic  instinct  is  already  present.  The 
episodes  follow  in  natural  order ;  the  digressions  are  neatly  managed  ; 
the  catastrophe  is  adroitly  postponed  to  prolong  attention  and  hold  it 
in  suspense ;  and  often  the  issue  is  gradually  revealed,  and  that  to 
expectant  minds.  One  feels,  even  in  the  least  successful  parts  of  the 
poem,  an  organizing  genius  aiming  at  clearness  and  proportion,  clever 
in  avoiding  confusion  and  in  selecting  what  has  worth.  These  are 
properly  tlie  qualities,  not  of  an  individual,  nor  of  a  group,  but  of  a 
whole  race. 

The  style  is,  moreover,  in  harmony  with  the  invention.  The 
Ibest  passages  of  the  poem  owe  to  this  style  their  wonderful  brilliance, 
rhough  determined  in  its  nature  and  general  character  by  the  tradi- 
tions of  epic  phraseology,  it  is  free  and  flexible  in  detail,  and  easily 
adapted  to  the  particular  aims  of  the  poet.  Its  amplitude  and  pomp, 
due  to  the  laws  of  early  Greek  epic,  are  found  es})ecially  in  the  parts 
one  might  call  neutral,  in  the  very  setting  of  the  narrative,  from 
which  the  more  characteristic  scenes  detach  themselves.  Yet  the 
traditionally  pompous  and  verbose  style  becomes  concise  and  spirited, 
or  simple  and  tender;  now  persuasive,  now  Avavering ;  even  harsh  and 
abru})t  when  it  comes  to  a  threat,  a  prayer,  or  a  lament,  an  expres- 
sion of  anger,  hatred,  pride,  —  in  a  word,  to  tracing  and  imitating  the 
im])ulses  of  the  human  heart.  Even  in  the  narratives,  the  variety 
is  not  lessened.  Sometimes  the  movement  of  the  language  is  slow 
and  majestic.     It  develops    comparisons  of   astonishing   length,  — 


The  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  33 

real  accessory  descriptions,  that  mingle  pictures  of  war  with  those  of 
landscape,  with  hunting  scenes,  with  boisterous  stretches  of  water, 
or  with  promontories  beaten  by  the  wind.  The  poet  tarries  beside 
these,  apparently  forgetting  his  principal  theme  for  the  picture  that 
his  imagination  has  created.  He  is  not  troubled  about  exactness  of 
resemblance  nor  differences  of  detail,  but  seeks  by  his  description  to 
produce  a  simple,  powerful  impression  ;  and  this  impression  must  aid 
the  story  for  whose  sake  the  auxiliary  account  has  been  inserted. 
Sometimes,  on  the  other  hand,  the  movement  of  his  style  is  hurried. 
The  language  follows  the  movements  of  the  actors.  It  is  broken,  it 
rests  in  suspense ;  by  some  sudden  leap,  it  reaches  a  critical  point. 
He  has  sweet  words  and  tender  formalities  for  describing  the  death 
of  a  young  warrior ;  the  sombre  gloom  of  destiny  for  those  whose 
promise  of  life  has  been  in  vain ;  and  harshness,  groans,  and  sounds 
of  bitter  anguish  to  express  the  fury  of  battle,  the  clash  of  arms,  or 
the  rumbling  of  war  chariots,  hurried  along  by  horses  that  have 
lost  their  driver.  This  Homeric  style  demonstrated  for  Greece 
the  possibilities  of  suggestion  that  lie  in  words,  figures,  accents,  the 
movement  of  sentences,  and  the  rhythm  of  verse.  But  in  the 
picturesque  variety  of  the  Iliad,  the  most  striking  features  are  its  * 
grandeur  and  force.  All  the  lyric  and  tragic  poetry  of  succeeding 
ages,  and  even  their  prose,  derived  from  it  lessons  whose  importance 
cannot  be  exaggerated. 

B.  — The  Odyssey^ 

7.  Second  Period  of  Greek  Epic.  Subject  of  the  Odyssey.  Analysis 
of  the  Poem.  —  If  the  Iliad  represents,  under  an  ideal  form,  the  military 
life  of  the  heroic  period,  the  Odyssey  depicts,  under  the  same  form, 
a  domestic  drama,  mingled  with  narratives  of  travel  and  marvellous  * 
adventure.  So  it  is  really  the  second  Greek  epic  ;  for  it  completes 
the  first,  yet  without  equalling  it  in  dramatic  power  or  moral  value. 
In  the  Iliad,  the  com])ats  are  brought  into  the  foreground  ;  and  con- 
sequently the  sentiment  of  honor,  with  the  simple  and  superb  dis- 
play of  heroic  force,  bodily  and  spiritual,  is  prominent.  In  the 
Odyssey  we   see  a  home  and   its  enemies.      On  the  one  side,  lust, 

1  Editiovs  :  Baumgarten-Crusius,  Homcri  OdufSPa,  3  vols.,  Leipsic,  1822 
with  a  select  number  of  scholia  ;  G.  Dindorf,  Ifomeri  Carmina,  Paris.  Didot 
18-"]7  ;  A.  Pierroii,  L' Odyssee  d^IIomere,  2  vols.,  with  notes  and  prolegomena 
Paris,  Ilachette,  1875 ;  A.  Kirchhoft",  Die  homerische  Odi/ssee,  Herlin,  1879 
important  for  the  discussions  contained  in  the  excursus  ;  Anieis  and  Hentze 
Hotnerg  Odi/ssee,  2  vols,  of  text  and  1  vol.  of  appendices,  with  good  German 
notes,  I.eipsic,  1880,  often  reedited. 

Scholia  :    (J.  Dindorf.  Scholia  Grcera  in   Odi/sscam,  2  vols.,  Oxford,  1855  ; 
the  Commentary  of  Eustathius  rec.  Stallbaum.  2  vols..  Leipsic,  1825. 

Lexicons  and  Gkammaus  :  See  note  on  the  Iliad,  p.  ID. 


34  Greek  Literature 

with  its  brutality  and  violence ;  on  the  other,  cunning,  confident 
patience,  long  dissimulation  in  the  service  of  right;  at  the  same 
time,  a  picture  of  fancy  in  the  distance,  and  an  abundance  of  tales 
and  descriptions  to  amuse  the  imagination.  The  Greek  mind  could 
find  pleasure  here  in  seeing  a  phase  of  itself  that  the  Iliad  had  left 
out.  These  two  epics  offered  an  abridged  but  complete  image  of 
.its  primitive  life. 

The  subject  is  drawn  from  the  legend  of  the  "  Returns,"  the  sequel 
of  the  legend  of  the  war  with  Troy.  The  Achiean  chiefs,  having 
vanquished  Priam  and  destroyed  his  city,  wished  to  return  to  their 
homes.  But  the  anger  of  the  gods  must  yet  be  visited  upon  them. 
Some  had  returned  only  to  fall  in  fatal  ambush;  others  had  perished 
at  sea ;  and  a  few  had  wandered  about  for  a  longer  or  a  shorter  period. 
Among  the  latter,  none  had  suffered  more  than  Odysseus,  and  the 
legend  of  his  adventures,  probably  built  upon  ancient  mythological 
themes,  seems  to  have  been  well  developed  at  an  early  period.  That 
the  Och/ssey  might  be  composed,  the  hero  needed  to  become  the  type 
of  the  sailor  astray,  confronted  by  all  the  terrors  and  marvels  of  un- 
known regions.  The  tale  of  his  adventures  was  increased  simultane- 
ously by  popular  story,  by  the  narratives  of  sailors,  and  by  poetic 
invention.  The  first  attempts  of  the  Greeks  of  Asia  to  make  long  voy- 
ages doubtless  furnished  it  large  contributions.  With  this  principal 
legend  a  secondary  one  was  developed  concerning  Penelope,  the  wife 
of  Odysseus,  who,  though  courted  in  his  absence  by  boisterous  suitors, 
remained  faithful  to  her  husband.  The  point  of  contact  of  the  two 
legends  was  the  return  of  the  hero,  and  the  slaughter  of  the  suitors. 
Owing  to  this  combination  of  diverse  elements,  tliere  arose,  little  by 
little,  a  group  of  highly  interesting  narratives.  These  we  find  to-day 
in  the  Odyssey,  as  it  has  come  down  to  us. 

The  poem  begins  at  Ithaca,  in  the  home  of  Odysseus.'  The  brutal 
audacity  of  the  suitors  is  vividly  portrayed.  The  youth  Tclema- 
chus,  barely  out  of  his  teens,  offers  them  but  feeble  resistance.  The 
goddess  Athena,  patroness  of  Odysseus,  comes  in  person  in  the  guise 
of  a  stranger,  to  exhort  the  young  man  to  firmness  and  to  advise  him 
to  make  search  for  his  father.  Telemachus  then  convokes  an  as- 
sembly of  the  people  of  Ithaca  (I>ook  II),  in  order  to  complain  of 
the  suitors  and  to  ask  that  he  be  furnished  with  a  vessel.  Tlie  as- 
sembly, dominated  by  the  suitors,  separates  without  coming  to  a 
decision.  IJut  Athena,  assuming  the  guise  of  Mentor,  a  friend  of 
Odysseus,  })rocures  for  Telema(;hus  the  needed  vessel,  e(]uijis  it,  as- 
sembles his  comjianions,  and  sets  out  with  him.     Telemachus  goes 

1  Thf  division  into  twenty-four  books  was  made  at  the  same  time  as  that  of 
the  Iliad.     See  j).  20,  foot-note. 


The  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  35 

first  to  Pylos,  to  the  home  of  Nestor  (Book  III),  then  to  Sparta,  to  the 
home  of  Menelaus  (Book  IV).  Both  give  him  a  most  friendly  wel- 
come and  speak  to  him  of  Odysseus,  without  being  able  to  say 
exactly  where  he  is. 

We  then  leave  Telemachus  at  Sparta,  to  find  ourselves  transported 
to  a  distant  island,  on  which  the  goddess  Calypso  has  detained 
Odysseus,  wishing  to  make  him  her  spouse.  The  gods,  however, 
instigated  by  Athena,  have  decided  that  he  must  be  set  free. 
Calypso,  receiving  their  order  from  Hermes,  decides  to  dismiss  him. 
Odysseus  builds  a  raft  and  puts  to  sea.  But  Poseidon,  angry  with 
him  ever  since  he  put  out  the  eye  of  the  Cyclops,  raises  a  tempest. 
Odysseus  is  tossed  upon  an  unknown  shore.  The  three  following 
books  (VI-VIII)  picture  his  reception  among  the  Phaeacians,  who 
inhabit  that  land.  Nausicaa,  daughter  of  Alcinous,  on  the  way  to 
wash  some  clothing  in  the  river  near  the  seashore,  comes  upon  the 
unfortunate  mariner,  who  is  shipwrecked,  hungry,  and  cold.  She 
comforts  him,  and  escorts  him  almost  to  the  city  gates.  He  enters 
the  palace  as  a  beggar,  but  is  received  as  a  guest.  They  spread  a 
feast  for  hiua  and  institute  games  and  banquets  in  his  honor.  We 
liave  in  the  Phaeacians  the  spectacle  of  a  happy,  wealthy  people, 
whose  life  is  wholly  one  of  pleasure. 

In  reply  to  the  well-meant  curiosity  of  his  hosts,  Odysseus,  be- 
trayed by  his  tears  as  he  listens  to  the  bard  Demodocus  chanting  an 
episode  of  the  Trojan  War,  reveals  his  identity  and  tells  of  his  ad- 
ventures. His  story  occupies  four  books  (IX-XII).  We  learn  thus 
all  that  he  suffered  from  the  time  of  the  capture  of  Troy  till  his 
arrival  among  the  Phaeacians,  —  his  adventures  among  the  Lotophagi 
and  with  the  Cyclops,  his  sojourn  in  the  isle  of  ^aea  with  the  god- 
dess Circe,  his  visit  to  the  region  of  the  dead ;  then  the  hospitality 
of  .'Eolus,  the  tempest,  his  passage  along  the  isle  of  the  Sirens,  the 
terrible  voyage  between  Scylla  and  Charybdis  ;  his  sojourn  in  Trina- 
cria  and  the  slaughter  of  the  oxen  of  Helios,  the  death  of  his  surviv- 
ing companions,  and  his  arrival  and  sojourn  in  the  isle  of  Calypso. 
At  this  point,  Odysseus'  narrative  catches  up  with  the  story  of  the 
poem  as  a  whole. 

Tlie  Phceacians,  charmed  by  his  story,  prepare  for  his  return. 
Kinbarking  in  one  of  their  vessels,  he  finally  lands  at  Ithaca  (Book 
XIII).  Here,  with  the  aid  of  Athena,  he  disguises  himself  in  the 
features  and  garb  of  a  beggar.  As  such,  he  is  received  by  his  old 
servant,  the  swineherd  Eumteus,  from  whom  he  learns  what  has  been 
going  on  in  his  palace  (Books  XIII,  XIV).  In  Book  XV  we  are 
again  at  Sparta,  where  we  had  left  Telemachus  at  the  end  of  Book 
IV.     Telemachus  finally  takes  leave  of  Menelaus,  and  a  prosperous 


36  Greek  Literature 

voyage  brings  him  to  Ithaca,  despite  the  intrigues  of  the  suitors.  He 
comes  to  Eumseus  in  Book  XVI  and  there  welcomes  the  stranger, 
who,  taking  him  aside,  makes  known  to  him  who  the  supposed  beg- 
gar really  is.  Father  and  son,  thus  reunited,  devise  their  plans 
together. 

In  Book  XVII,  first  Telemachus,  and  then  Odysseus,  still  dis- 
guised, come  to  the  palace.  The  would-be  beggar,  insulted  by  Anti- 
nous,  leader  of  the  rioters,  curbs  his  wrath  and  plots  for  his 
vengeance.  Challenged  by  another  beggar,  Iros,  he  wrestles  with 
him  and  throws  him.  ^Nevertheless,  he  submits  to  numerous  insults 
without  revealing  himself  (Book  XVIII).  Penelope,  apprised  of  the 
situation,  is  anxious  to  see  him.  She  has  him  appear  before  her  and 
asks  him  whether  he  has  learned  anything  concerning  Odysseus. 
He  assures  her  that  he  has  seen  him,  and  that  Odysseus  must  soon 
return.  It  is  after  this  tale  that  the  old  maid-servant,  Euryclea, 
while  washing  his  feet,  suddenly  recognizes  him  by  an  old  scar. 
Odysseus  has  only  time  to  bid  her  remain  silent  (Book  XIX), 
Vengeance  is  approaching,  though  various  incidents  retard  it,  notably 
the  arrival  of  the  cowherd  Philoitius,  through  whom  Odysseus  makes 
himself  known  (Book  XX).  At  last  the  longed-for  moment  is  at 
hand.  In  ]'>ook  XXI  the  suitors,  at  the  invitation  of  Penelope,  try 
to  shoot  each  an  arrow  from  the  bow  of  Odysseus  through  a  series  of 
rings.  Not  one  of  them  can  even  bend  the  bow.  Odysseus  seizes  it 
and  passes  the  test  successfully.  It  is  a  moment  of  intense  excite- 
ment. He  gives  a  sign  to  his  son  and  his  two  faithful  servants,  who 
thereupon  take  their  places  at  his  side.  Then  the  massacre  of  the 
suitors  begins.  They  all,  after  a  hard  fight,  succumb  to  the  shots  of 
Odysseus  and  his  companions.  Odysseus  is  avenged  and  once  more 
master  of  his  own  palace  (Book  XXII). 

In  Book  XXIII  he  reveals  himself  to  his  wife,  and  in  Book 
XXIV  to  his  aged  father  Laertes.  With  the  aid  of  Athena  they 
put  to  flight  the  relatives  and  friends  of  the  suitors.  The  ])oem 
closes  with  this  pacification,  which  assures  the  lasting  triumph  of 
Odysseus. 

8.  Structure.  Unity.  Formation.'  —  Like  the  IliwJ,  the  Od>/sse2/, 
too,  considered  in  its  entirety,  gives  the  impression  of  unity  in  diver- 
sity. Elements  of  very  dissimilar  nature  are  united  in  it :  certain 
parts  are  like  stories  for  children,  —  some  are  pastoral,  some  resemble 
domestic  romance,  and  some  are  like  very  sombre  drama.     But  the 

1  Consult  Kirchhoff,  the  excursus  in  the  edition  above  cited.  To  this  scholar 
is  due  the  first  clear  exposition  of  the  questions  relating  to  the  structure  of  the 
poem.  Cf.  Wilamowitz,  Ilornerisrhr  Untenmchnn/iPn,  sup.  cit.  ;  and  E.  Kaiu- 
nier.  Dif  Einhfit  der  Odyssee,  Leipsic,  1874.  See  also  the  bibliographical  note 
on  the  Jliad,  p.  22. 


The  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  37 

poem  nevertheless  forms  a  whole,  whose  structure  is  simple  and  yet 
carefully  thought  out. 

Its  unity  is  due  to  the  passionate  desire  of  Odysseus  from  begin- 
ning to  end  to  be  again  in  the  midst  of  his  people,  in  peaceable  pos- 
session of  his  estate  and  his  home.  This  desire  is  disclosed  to  us  in 
the  beginning,  and  almost  all  of  the  poem  is  concerned  with  it.  Al- 
most every  part  shows  us  the  obstacles  that  stand  in  the  way,  post- 
poning or  compromising  its  realization ;  or  else  the  stern  efforts  of 
will  by  which  Odysseus  at  last  succeeds  in  surmounting  them.  The 
Odyssey,  then,  is  far  from  being  a  biography  of  marvels  in  verse, 
following  through  changes  of  fortune  the  adventures  of  a  lead- 
ing character.  It  is  the  organized  and  definitely  planned  develop- 
ment of  a  situation,  and  a  sentiment  that,  arising  from  this  situation, 
continues  while  it  continues  and  dies  when  it  dies.  The  unifying 
principle  is  really  inherent  and  organic,  arising  from  the  conception 
of  the  subject  and  exercising  an  influence  over  the  entire  work. 
Moreover,  this  situation,  as  we  have  it  in  the  poem,  is  not  developed 
in  regular  sequence.  It  is  shown  to  us  only  at  the  moment  when  its 
solution  is  near  at  hand.  Then,  by  means  of  inserted  narratives,  we 
are  informed  of  its  previous  phases ;  and  finally  there  is  presented 
the  catastrophe,  which  forms  the  essential  part.  Such  a  structure 
gives  to  epic  something  like  dramatic  concentration,  increases  inter- 
est up  to  the  culminating  point,  and  so  confirms  the  impression  of 
unity.  Such  a  disposition  of  the  parts  and  such  a  conception  of 
unity  can  have  the  effect  neither  of  hazard  nor  of  superficial  arrange- 
ment made  after  the  parts  were  composed.  We  must  suppose  one  of 
two  things  :  either  that  they  are  the  work  of  some  poet  of  genius  who 
formed  the  general  plan  of  the  narrative  and  then  composed  the 
principal  parts ;  or  that  they  are  due  to  the  gradual  growth  of  the 
])oem  and  connected  with  the  history  of  its  formation.  What  is 
the  conclusion  that  the  diversity  of  the  different  elements  permits  us 
to  draw  in  the  matter  ? 

One  may  say  that  the  structure  of  the  Odyssey  is  somewliat 
unsatisfactory  in  detail,  but  highly  pleasing  when  considered  as  a 
whole.  The  first  four  books  form,  as  we  liave  seen,  a  sort  of  intro- 
duction, in  which  Telcmachus  is  in  the  foreground.  The  introduc- 
tion, considered  in  itself,  fits  the  poem  ;  yet  it  is  attached  by  an 
awkward  connection  :  the  beginning  of  the  fifth  book  re})resents  the 
gods  as  deliberating  a  second  time  what  they  had  decided  in  the 
first,  and  only  then  taking  i)ains  to  execute  their  decree.  In  this 
introduction,  unmistakable  signs,  that  we  cannot  discuss  here, 
betoken  a  considera])le  revision.  The  second  part,  containing  the 
arrival  of   Odysseus  among   the  l*lueacians,  the  description  of  his 


38  Greek  Literature 

welcome  there,  and  the  series  of  his  adventures  (V-XII),  gives  rise 
to  observations  of  the  same  nature.  The  tale  of  Odysseus  seems  to 
have  been  kept  purposely  in  reserve,  that  the  part  which  serves  as 
an  introduction  to  it  might  be  extended.  In  the  tale  itself,  certain 
portions  are  difficult  of  reconciliation  with  others.  There  are  nu- 
merous variations  of  the  same  theme ;  notably  the  prophecies  of  Circe 
and  Tires ias,  which,  when  compared,  prove  to  be  quite  alike.  One 
episode,  the  visit  to  the  region  of  the  dead,  is  clearly  made  up  of 
elements  composed  in  different  ages  and  never  quite  harmonized. 
The  third  and  last  part,  containing  the  return  of  Odysseus  to  his 
home  and  the  vengeance  he  executes  there,  appears  to  have  more 
unity,  yet,  on  analysis,  is  found  to  be  equally  loose.  To  note  here 
only  certain  points,  let  us  mention  the  double  conception  of  the 
disguise  of  Odysseus.  At  one  moment  it  is  due  to  a  miracle  wrought 
by  Athena,  and  as  such  disappears  at  her  behest ;  moreover,  its  dis- 
appearance is  sufficient  to  cause  immediate  recognition  of  Odysseus. 
Again  it  is  conceived  of  as  a  quite  natural  change,  the  result  of  age 
and  of  hardships  undergone,  and  consequently  cannot  be  put  aside  at 
will ;  therefore  Odysseus  is  in  need  of  external  signs  to  make  him- 
self known.  The  series  of  events  which  fills  this  part  of  the  poem  is 
far  from  coherent.  We  find  not  only  variations  of  the  same  theme, 
but  also  important  details  which  do  not  harmonize.  The  instruc- 
tions of  Odysseus  to  his  son  in  Book  XYI  do  not  conform  to  wliat  the 
two  do  afterward  (Book  XIX,  beginning),  nor  with  the  scene  of  com- 
bat for  the  regulation  of  which  they  were  given  (Book  XXII).  The 
close  of  the  poem,  after  the  recognition  of  Odysseus  and  Penelope, 
was  rejected  even  by  the  critics  of  antiquity.  It  seems  to  have  been 
deliberately  added  to  the  preceding  scenes.  Finally,  a  curious  and 
significant  incoherence  is  that  Athena,  who  constantly  protects 
Odysseus  in  the  closing  scenes,  is  almost  absent  from  the  earlier 
ones.  The  reason  given  for  this  in  Book  XIII  (v.  141)  has  evidently 
only  the  value  of  a  pretext,  designed  to  conceal  or  excuse  a  real 
divergence  of  conception.  All  these  differences  lead  to  a  very  dif- 
ferent hypothesis  from  that  of  mere  superficial  revision  or  inter- 
polation. The  condition  of  the  poem  cannot  be  explained  except 
by  admitting  a  series  of  enlargements  and  transformations  that 
necessitated  weak  connection  and  scant  harmony. 

If  one  considers  the  artless  and  marvellous  tales  that  Odysseus 
relates  to  Alcinous,  it  seems  natural  to  believe  that  these  are  the 
original  parts  of  the  0(b/sse)j,  or  at  least  the  first  to  be  fully  devel- 
oped. They  must  have  taken  shape  at  a  time  when  the  countries 
around  the  western  Mediterranean  were  already  somewhat  known,  but 
not  yet  thoroughly  so ;  and  when  popular  imagination  peopled  the  sea 


The  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  39 

with  great  and  terrible  monsters.  If  the  ^olians,  as  is  supposed, 
settled  at  Cumae  as  early  as  the  tenth  century,  and  if  the  colonization 
of  Sicily  and  Magna  Grsecia  took  place  in  the  second  half  of  the 
eighth,  then  it  is  between  these  dates,  about  the  beginning  of  the 
ninth  century,  perhaps,  that  the  theme  of  the  return  of  Odysseus 
could  give  rise  to  a  series  of  poetic  lays  of  greater  or  less  length. 
Whatever  their  primitive  form,  these  lays  were  the  first  sketch  of 
the  Odyssey.  ^No  doubt,  the  character  of  Odysseus,  his  desire  to 
return  to  Ithaca,  his  energy  and  patience,  and  the  resources  of  his 
will,  already  seemed  to  be  data  for  the  subject.  But  there  was  as  yet 
nothing  to  determine  the  form  of  composition  or  the  character  of  the 
poem  as  a  whole. 

That  began  to  be  determined,  however,  when  a  poet  conceived 
the  idea  of  treating,  in  a  series  of  chants,  the  last  part  of  the  legend, 
the  catastrophe,  in  which  Odysseus  enters  his  palace  and  executes 
his  vengeance.  This  theme,  in  fact,  contained  within  itself  the 
germ  of  unity  that  had  been  lacking  in  the  lays.  It  comprised  only 
a  single  act,  properly  speaking ;  but  the  act  presupposed  a  whole 
process  of  preparation  that  might  be  developed.  There  was  need  to 
relate  how  Odysseus  disembarked  at  Ithaca,  tested  his  servants,  and 
watched  and  deceived  the  suitors ;  and  to  recount  the  combat,  and 
the  recognition  between  husband  and  wife.  This  was  accomplished 
by  a  single  bard  in  a  small  number  of  chants,  that  could  be  given 
separately,  each  as  a  complete  whole.  The  series  constitutes  to-day 
the  basis  of  the  second  part  of  the  poem ;  but  the  additions  that 
were  made  little  by  little  render  it  impossible  to  determine  with 
certainty  what  were  the  primitive  chants. 

When  this  part  was  popularized  by  recitation,  and  came  to  be 
regarded  as  a  whole,  the  idea  sprang  up  naturally  of  attaching  it  to 
the  ancient  lays  already  mentioned,  which  recounted  the  events 
immediately  preceding.  For  such  a  purpose  the  chants  needed  to 
be  abridged  and  condensed.  The  bard  who  did  the  recasting  had 
the  happy  idea  of  putting  the  story  into  the  mouth  of  Odysseus  him- 
self. He  conceived  that  Odysseus  should  relate  the  chants  to  his 
first  host  after  his  arrival  in  Ithaca.  This  was  Alcinous,  king  of 
the  Ph;eacians.  Thus  the  series  of  adventures  could  be  represented 
as  a  whole  under  the  form  of  personal  memoirs.  Only  the  introduc- 
tion Avas  wanting  which  should  tell  how  Odysseus  came  to  leave  the 
isle  of  Calypso,  suiTered  shipwreck  at  Scheria,  and  had  been  received 
by  Alcinous.  These  chants  comprise,  therefore,  all  the  middle  por- 
tion of  the  poem,  excepting  the  additions  and  revisions  of  later 
times.  Joined  to  the  series  already  fornu'd,  the  whole  was  a  long 
production,  between  whose  parts  there  might  well  be  here  and  there 


40  Greek  Literature 

defects  of  contiuuity  and  slight  disagreements ;  yet  they  had  the 
character  of  unity  already  noted,  to  which,  from  beginning  to  end, 
attention  was  directed.  This  was  because  the  later  manipulations 
had  had  for  their  object  precisely  the  adaptation  to  one  another  of 
the  elements  already  existing.  But  they  were  not  so  clever  as  to 
make  it  necessary  to  admit  that  the  author  of  one  part  was  the 
author  of  the  whole. 

Things  might  then  have  come  to  a  pause ;  the  Och/ssey  was  com- 
posed. Still,  it  received  later  some  developnient  which  tinished  its 
form.  Another  bard,  very  different  from  the  two  preceding  in  the 
turn  of  his  character,  determined  to  add  to  the  double  series  of 
chants  an  introduction,  in  which  he  would  recount  the  journey 
undertaken  by  Telemachus  in  search  of  news  of  his  father.  It  is 
true  that  this  design  does  not  seem  to  have  been  executed  at  one 
time  by  the  hand  of  one  man,  but  that  matters  little.  The  new  lays 
relative  to  Odysseus'  return  formed  a  group  almost  as  extensive  as 
that  dealing  Avith  the  anger  of  Achilles.  The  equality  was  almost 
complete  when  the  poem  had  once  received  as  a  conclusion  the  close 
of  the  twenty -third  book  and  the  entire  twenty -fourth.  It  was  still 
necessary,  if  the  work  was  to  have  the  qualities  of  a  great  poem,  to 
reduce  to  harmony  the  various  incoherent  details.  Certain  slight 
additions  made  in  this  concluding  period  did  not  change  the  a])pear- 
ance  of  the  whole.  When  the  editors  under  Pisistratus  reduced  the 
poem  to  writing,  they  needed  to  give  only  occasional  touches,  and 
especially  to  choose  between  the  various  treatments  they  found 
existing. 

9.  Beauty  as  a  Whole.  Extent  and  Variety.  Enhancement  of  Inter- 
est. Slight  Monotony  of  Invention.  —  The  result  was  excellent.  In 
the  vast  frame  tlie  most  varied  inventions  found  their  place;  and 
certain  of  tliem  gave  to  the  new  ])oem  a  degree  of  beauty  wliich  the 
Iliiid  did  not  have.  There  was  ])ompous  decoration,  a  vast  expanse 
of  sea,  undiscovered  lands,  and  all  tlie  impressiveness  of  the  unknown, 
to  dispLiy  to  the  imagination  a  marvellous  jterspective.  'I'o  follow 
'the  wandering  vess<d,  driven  by  ttMupests  to  shores  where  never  man 
hail  landed,  must  have  been  a  delight  to  the  simple  auditors.  A 
thousand  fantastic  visions  were  offered  them  :  man-eating  giants, 
seductive  and  di-ead  Sir<'ns,  the  floating  islaml  of  .Kolus.  girt  with 
its  iron  wall,  monsters  of  the  deep,  stranire  peojiles.  lost  islaiuls  in 
which  g0(,ls  were  dwelling,  the  dismal  regif)n  of  the  dead,  silent  and 
inauspieious :  and.  by  way  of  contrast,  the  joyous  city  of  the  I'luea- 
cians,  full  of  song  and  dancing,  games  ami  festivals.  l-5y  turns  the 
story  passed  from  shadow  to  light,  from  terror  to  joy.  Farther  on 
there  were  other  eharminu'  scenes:   the  emotion  of  the  exile  restored 


The  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  41 

to  his  native  land,  the  gracious  hospitality  of  Eumaeus,  the  amusing, 
yet  truthful,  details  of  rustic  life,  long  and  delightful  conversations,  ' 
the  dramatic  self-concealment  of  a  man  hiding  in  his  own  home, 
touching  and  unexpected  recognitions,  the  domestic  life  of  a  great 
palace,  the  going  and  coming  of  servants,  the  games  and  banquets  of 
the  suitors,  and  their  insolence ;  and  finally,  the  long-expected,  adroitly 
postponed  vengeance,  coming  suddenly,  and  filling  the  great  hall 
with  streams  of  blood.  It  cannot  be  denied  that  for  us  the  nari'a- 
tives  are  sometimes  tedious ;  but  we  must  remember  that  the  auditors 
of  the  epic  period  were  not  so  impatient  as  we.  The  ability  of  a 
poet  to  expand  his  subject,  or  multiply  inventions,  won  their  admi- 
ration. They  knew^  no  pleasanter  way  of  passing  time  than  by 
listening  to  these  ever  fresh  narrations.  The  Odyssey  afforded  them 
a  double  pleasure  by  its  great  extent  and  its  diversity. 

With  all  its  length,  too,  the  Odyssey  has  the  merit  of  a  well-sus- 
tained interest.  The  farther  one  proceeds  in  the  poem  the  more  one 
feels  the  approach  of  the  catastrophe ;  and  the  more,  too,  one  wishes 
for  it.  The  story  is  charmingly  told  and  makes  one  impatient  by 
showing  the  suitors  becoming  more  and  more  odious,  the  situation 
of  Penelope  more  and  more  critical,  and  the  w-rath  and  suffering  of 
Odysseus  fiercer  and  more  fierce.  The  progress  of  the  action  is  seen 
in  every  deed  the  hero  performs,  in  the  recognitions  and  the  general 
march  of  events  leading  to  the  final  issue.  But  at  the  same  time,  the 
catastrophe  is  postponed  by  the  invention  of  episodes  designed  to  make 
one  impatient  with  anxiety.  Owing  to  the  nature  of  the  subject, 
dramatic  progress  is  more  evident  than  in  the  Iliad,  since  the  event 
that  shall  end  the  action  is  more  definitely  discerned.  The  poem  can 
close  only  with  the  death  of  the  suitors.  This  is  felt  at  the  very 
beginning;  and,  though  forgotten  now  and  then,  the  lapse  is  only  for 
a  moment.  When  Odysseus  has  come  to  Ithaca,  the  vision  of  the 
closing  scene  is  present,  and  may  be  said  to  command  attention  there- 
after with  constantly  increasing  force. 

The  composition  of  the  Odyssey  is,  however,  less  harmonious  than 
that  of  the  Iliad.  The  different  parts  are  not  so  well  fused  into  a 
harmonious  whole.  The  fantastic  and  the  real  are  put  side  by  side, 
each  still  remaining  distinct.  The  adventure  with  the  Cyclops  is  a  ^ 
child's  tale ;  but  the  killing  of  the  suitors  is  a  tragedy.  And  despite 
the  variety  already  noticed,  the  poem  does  not  escape  monotony.  Tho 
adventures  of  Odysseus  are  based  on  a  series  of  similar  inventions. 
Tlie  tests  he  gives  in  his  palace  are  alike  exct'pt  in  detail.  Especially 
in  the  second  part,  the  poet's  fancy  seems  to  have  more  grace  than 
force,  more  freedom  than  boldness  or  brilliance.  The  ancient  critic 
who  wrote  the  treatise  On  the  SubUme,  attributed  to  Longinus.  ex- 


42  Greek  Literature 

plained  this  feature  of  the  Odyssey  by  the  age  of  the  poet,  suppos- 
ing that  Homer  composed  the  Iliad  in  the  flower  of  his  manhood  and 
the  Odyssey  in  his  old  age.  The  hypothesis,  though  without  historic 
value,  states  clearly  enough  an  impression  still  felt  by  almost  every 
one. 

10.  Religion  of  the  Odyssey.^  The  Marvellous  Element.  Greater 
Realism  of  Certain  Parts.  Some  of  the  Characters.  Moral  Tone.  —  If 
we  pass  from  the  composition  to  the  content  of  the  poem,  we  see  that 
it  rests  on  the  same  basis  of  religious  faith  as  the  Iliad.  The  gods 
who  take  part  in  it  are,  in  all  essential  matters,  the  same ;  and,  in  a 
general  way,  their  relations  with  men  have  not  changed.  Here,  too, 
they  take  part  in  the  whole  epic  action  and  their  power  is  exercised 
to  bring  events  to  the  desired  end.  The  religion  of  the  poem  is  every- 
where instinctive  and  traditional,  rather  than  philosophic,  and  is 
always  foreign  to  any  theological  tendency.  Such,  however,  is  only 
its  general  aspect;  if  one  considers  more  closely,  comparing  the  poem 
with  the  Iliad,  certain  characteristic  differences  appear. 

Although  still  passionate,  the  gods  are  no  longer  in  violent  con- 
flict with  one  another.  They  have  discontinued  threats,  quarrels, 
and  combats  among  themselves.  Only  Poseidon,  the  enemy  of 
Odysseus,  and  Athena,  his  protectress,  are  still  opposed;  and  the 
opposition  is  very  slight.  In  fact,  they  are  busy  by  turns  rather 
than  simultaneously  and  in  contrary  ways.  Olympus  is  the  patron, 
on  the  whole,  of  right  against  injustice.  The  religious  tone  of  tlie 
poem  has  more  of  a  moral  tendency  than  that  of  the  Iliad.  No 
divinity  upholds  the  suitors.  Zeus  brings  about  the  triumph  of 
the  just  cause,  and  that  without  strife  or  contradiction.  His  author- 
ity does  not  need,  as  in  the  Iliad,  to  be  backed  up  by  threats  or  sus- 
tained by  force ;  it  enjoys  a  constant,  tacit  assent.  Peace  in  01ym]ms 
is  the  rule  in  the  Odyssey  ;  and  though  religious  faith  has  grown  purer, 
the  poem  really  loses  in  dramatic  interest.  The  celestial  world,  grown 
wiser,  no  longer  has  the  energetic  and  tumultuous  life  due,  as  in  the 
Iliad,  to  its  passions. 

»  Another  difference  is  that,  in  the  oldest  parts  of  the  Iliad,  divine 
intervention  has  an  air  of  mystery  about  it.  The  gods  do  not  appear 
in  the  presence  of  men,  but  simply  make  men  feel  their  presence ; 
they  never  intervene  except  when  the  occasion  is  worthy  of  them. 
The  Odyssey,  like  the  later  parts  of  the  Iliad,  has  a  different  concep- 
tion. It  employs  gods  without  scruple,  as  mere  epic  machinery,  use- 
ful in  producing  certain  effects,  or  in  escaping  certain  difficulties. 
The  miraculous  element  has  ceased  to  be  of  consequence.     Athena 

1  Consult  Benjamin  Constant,  De  la  Religion,  vol.  III.  See  also  the  note 
on  the  gods  of  the  Iliad,  p.  27. 


The  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  43 

appears  in  the  guise  of  a  traveller,  of  Mentor,  of  a  girl,  of  a  young 
shepherd,  of  a  bird ;  she  appears  and  disappears  hastily ;  she  per- 
forms the  functions  of  a  herald,  equips  a  bark,  puts  in  the  way  of 
Odysseus  indications  that  any  common  man  might  have  given  him, 
fills  the  dark  palace  with  the  light  of  her  presence  when  it  would  be 
an  advantage,  and  is  so  much  a  busybody  as  not  to  seem  seriously 
occupied.  Such  an  indiscreet  fashion  of  making  the  gods  serve  one's 
purpose  is  really  anything  but  religious.  It  is  the  religion  of  orna- 
ment, in  which  true  religious  sentiment  counts  for  very  little  indeed. 

As  the  miraculous  abounds,  so  does  the  marvellous,  at  least  in  one 
part  of  the  poem.  The  voyage  of  Odysseus  till  his  landing  in  Ithaca 
is  a  fairy  tale.  This  element  of  marvel,  foreign  to  the  Iliad  and  to 
some  parts  of  the  Ochjssey  itself,  springs  manifestly  from  a  trait  of 
racial  character  which  the  legend  of  Odysseus  incorporated  and  devel- 
oped. Artless,  possibly,  among  its  first  employers,  it  is  not  wholly  so 
in  the  Homeric  poems.  The  narrator,  it  is  true,  takes  a  sincere  delight 
in  it,  and  never  seeks,  as  a  decided  sceptic  might  do,  to  show  its  un- 
likelihood by  his  manner  of  presentation.  Yet  he  no  longer  has  the 
simplicity  of  spirit  nor  the  instinctive  frankness  of  a  true  believer. 
He  treats  his  subject  with  evident  indifference  to  its  historic  value, 
as  if  it  were  matter  of  poesy,  striving  simply  to  please,  impress,  or 
amuse.  Improbabilities  of  detail  do  not  concern  him.  The  adven- 
ture of  Odysseus  with  the  Cyclops  is  full  of  them,  yet  he  cares  little ; 
his  story  is  charming,  sparkling  with  life  and  beauty.  He  puts  into 
it  terror,  hostility,  and  friendship,  and  even  cunning ;  and  that  is  all 
he  needs.  The  tales  of  marvel  are  animated  by  nearly  the  same  spirit. 
They  have  the  light,  charming  humor  of  an  Ionic  bard  accus- 
tomed to  live  in  an  atmosphere  of  fiction,  —  a  poet  sensitive  to  the 
impressions  of  his  subject,  who  conceives  without  effort  things 
scarcely  credible,  and  weaves  them  into  an  exquisite  poetic  tissue, 
without  thinking  of  the  possibility  of  asking  how  much  of  it  he 
believes  or  even  whether  he  believes  at  all. 

But  by  the  side  of  stories  in  which  fancy  has  free  play,  consider- 
able portions  of  the  Od>/s,se>/  show  careful  observation  of  contem- 
])orary  life.  This  is  particularly  true  of  the  first  books  and  of  all 
that  come  after  the  landing  of  Odysseus  in  Ithaca.  We  find  here 
a  degree  of  realism  so  much  greater  that  it  is  worthy  of  remark. 

In  the  Iliad,  all  the  great  characteristic  scenes  are  represented 
with  bold  lines.  With  a  sure  stroke,  poesy  ])lunges  deep  into  the 
reality  of  life;  but  that  reality  is  exalted,  ennobled,  and  idealized. 
The  narrative  takes  little  heed  of  i)etty  detail ;  it  brings  to  light 
only  strong  passions  and  emotions,  only  dramatic  moments  and 
leading  aspects.     Details  are  suggested,  and  then  brought  into  the 


44  Greek  Literature 

general  current,  whose  force  sweeps  everything  before  it.  Only  a 
few  chants  form  an  exception,  and  this  indicates  their  later  origin. 
I^ut  what  is  exceptional  in  the  Iliad  is  usual  in  the  Odyssey.  The 
narrative,  far  from  seeking  great  dramatic  scenes,  takes  pleasure 
in  dwelling  iipon  mediocre  matters.  ]\[uch  space  is  given  to  descrip- 
tions, even  at  times  to  those  that  do  not  promote  the  development 
of  the  action.  The  narrative  is  especially  prolonged  in  treating 
familiar  manners.  Conferences,  though  often  serving  only  to  give 
the  personages  opportunity  to  reveal  themselves  or  simply  to  occupy 
and  charm  the  attention,  are  multii)lied.  The  art  shown  is  one  of 
delicate  and  subtle  imitation,  pleasing  mostly  by  its  justice  and  its 
:  truth.  We  are  delighted  to  find,  in  a  frank,  lifelike  picture,  a 
^  thousand  details  of  domestic  life,  aptly  presented,  without  minutioe, 
and  exquisitely  natural.  Poetic  invention  assumes  a  phase  akin  to 
observation  ;  and  the  epic  in  this  aspect  seems  like  a  prelude  to  the 
romance  of  manners. 

Under  these  circumstances,  the  personages  cannot  be  drawn 
with  the  vigorous  relief  which  the  powerful  creation  of  the  Iliad 
bestowed.  Really,  if  we  except  Odysseus,  who  is  very  different, 
most  of  the  characters  of  the  Odyssey  seem  weak  beside  those  of  the 
great  Trojan  epic.  They  are  portrayed  with  fine,  light  lines  rather 
than  painted  in  powerful  colors.  Yet  the  design  is  often  charmint,'; 
and,  however  simjjle,  it  is  always  animated.  Penelope,  tho\igh 
,  reduced  to  secondary  importance,  has  a  touching  grace  in  a  number 
of  scenes.  The  maid  Nausicaa,  though  appearing  but  for  an  instant, 
can  never  l)e  forgotten.  Slie  pleases  by  her  youth,  her  exquisite 
beauty,  her  frank,  sprightly  finesse,  her  generosity  and  intelligenre. 
King  Alcinous  and  Queen  Arete,  though  we  catch  only  a  glimjise 
of  them,  have  an  engaging  dignity  which  makes  us  love  them.  In 
the  opening  chants,  Nestor,  Menelaus,  and  Helen,  though  not 
strongly  characterized,  are  yet  sufficiently  so  to  make  it  a  pleasure 
when  one  finds  in  them  personages  .already  known.  The  youth 
Telemachus,  though  yet  uncertain  how  much  to  do  and  how  much 
to  attempt,  but  u])right,  sincere,  generous,  and  devoted  to  the  lionor 
and  memory  of  his  father,  would  attract  us  more,  if  lie  were  not 
reduced,  in  the  second  part,  to  i)lay  a  role  (piite  sulxjrdinate.  The 
servants  are  excellent;  iMimcCus  especially  is  good,  hospitable, 
content  witli  liis  humble  lot.  aiul  faithful  to  his  master,  ])rt»sent  or 
absent.  AVo  have  a  charming  picture  of  him  i-eceiving  his  master 
at  his  fireside  in  the  rustic  home  amid  his  herds.  The  frame,  being 
ajipropriate  to  tlir  ]iictui'e.  sets  it  off  to  advantage.  The  suitors 
have  the  fault  of  being  all  alike.  Tliey  form  a  group  in  which  the 
individuals,  though  possessed  in  some  cases  of  jjersonal  traits,  have 


The  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  45 

scarcely  even  the  little  credit  they  deserve.  The  group  is  noisy, 
blustering,  and  insolent,  but  devoid  of  the  strong  passion  necessary 
in  an  epic  poem. 

Xone  of  the  personages  is  given  opportunity  to  shovi-  what  can 
really  be  called  character.  Their  individual  traits,  for  want  of 
vigor,  are  lost  in  the  general  representation  of  the  mass.  There  is 
but  one  real  hero,  Odysseus.  Remarkable  already  in  the  Iliad,  he 
assumes  here  paramount  importance;  and  it  is  in  him  almost  wholly 
that  the  dramatic  and  moral  beauty  of  the  poem  are  evinced. 
Thoroughly  human,  he  appeals  to  us  and  captivates  us  at  once  from 
the  fact  that  he  loves  and  suffers.  His  spirit,  though  admirably 
courageous  and  patient,  is  by  no  means  stoic.  It  feels  keenly  every  ■ 
bitter  pang,  every  deception  or  hardship.  At  times  sinking  into 
despair,  it  always  rises  again  with  indomitable  energy.  His  excel- 
lent moral  force  is  supported  by  auxiliary  qualities  of  the  first 
order:  a  ready,  sound  intelligence,  prudence  that  defies  cunning, 
fertility  ready  to  meet  all  emergencies,  and  craft  that  amounts  to 
heroisn).  The  character  certainly  must  have  been  known  to  tradi- 
tion before  there  was  an  Odyssey.  It  had  its  roots  deep  in  the 
heart  of  the  Greek  people.  ]^ut  the  Odyssey  disclosed  its  worth 
and  gave  it  finished  form.  Owing  fo  the  poem,  Odysseus  became 
a  strong  epic  character,  and  acquired  immortality.  The  variety  of 
the  scenes  in  which  he  appears,  their  connection,  and  the  turns  of 
his  fortune,  constitute  the  real  structure  of  the  whole  work,  and 
display  to  full  advantage  the  essential  features  of  his  personality. 

]\Iore  than  anything  else,  it  is  the  importance  given  to  Odysseus 
that  lends  the  poem  its  moral  tone.  This  is  inore  marked  than  in 
the  Iliad,  yet  without  making  the  poem  more  didactic.  No  work, 
by  simple  narration  of  facts,  could  better  extol  the  virtues  essential 
to  good  conduct,  or  praise  intelligent  bravery,  painstaking  thouglit,. 
and  perseverance  in  the  midst  of  hardsliip.  Tncidentally  it  glorifies 
family  affection  and  fidelity  to  friends,  and  lashes  violence  and 
injustice.  Yet  its  morality  is  not  chivalrous.  It  is  even  less  so 
tlian  that  of  the  Iliad,  owing,  perhaps,  to  the  nature  of  the  subject 
and  the  type  of  the  hero.  Dissimulation,  a  favorite  weapon  in  the 
hero's  struggle  against  his  enenues,  is  often  justified  by  his  mis- 
i'oitunes  and  ennobled  by  his  courage  ;  yet  sometimes,  too,  it  tends 
to  become  second  nature  to  him.  or,  at  least,  an  art  of  which 
he  is  somewhat  vain.  From  the  point  of  view  of  history,  this 
is  an  interesting  trait,  characteristic  of  a  certain  age  of  Ionic 
civilization. 

11.    Form  of  the  Poem.     Its  Style  and  Language.  —  In  form,  the 
Odyssey  closely  resembles  the  Iliad.    All  the  essentials  of  epic  poetry 


46  Greek  Literature 

are  there  :  fulness  of  narration,  formal  speeches,  formulas  of  transi- 
tion, and  traditional  phraseology.  The  general  manner  of  exposition 
is  the  same.  Properly  speaking,  there  is  no  dialogue  ;  the  narratives 
are  largely  rhetorical,  and  the  divisions  well  marked,  brief  resumes 
showing  the  phases  of  the  action  and  binding  the  different  parts 
together.  The  art  in  each  poem  is,  then,  fundamentally  the  same ; 
and  if  we  were  content  with  a  summary  impression,  this  striking 
resemblance  would  conceal  the  differences,  because  they  are  less 
apparent  —  noticeable,  in  fact,  only  to  an  attentive  observation. 

But  on  looking  more  closely,  one  finds  that  the  epic  language 
and  style  of  the  Odyssey  are  less  primitive  than  those  of  the  Iliad. 
The  style  is  not  so  pompous  or  dazzling.  Extended  comparisons 
are  much  rarer,  some  portions  of  the  poem  having  almost  none  at 
all ;  and  those  that  do  occur  are  shorter  and  more  strictly  appropri- 
ate to  their  subject.  A  sense  of  logical  proportion  begins  to  domi- 
nate the  thought.  This  difference  seems  due  in  part  to  a  change 
of  subject-matter ;  but  the  explanation  is  not  complete,  unless  we 
consider  the  new  habits  of  thought  beginning  to  come  into  vogue 
in  Ionian  society.  And  the  study  of  the  language  shows  this  still 
more  decisively  than  that  of  the  style.  The  vocabulary  of  the 
Odyssey  is  more  modern  than  that  of  the  Iliad,  despite  the  determi- 
nation of  the  epic  poets  to  remain  faithful  to  the  traditions  of  their 
art.  If  one  attempts  to  trace  in  the  two  poems  the  history  of  words, 
one  finds  that  the  processes  of  derivation  proper  to  the  Greek  lan- 
guage have  produced  in  the  Odyssey  a  considerable  number  of  terms 
unknown  to  the  Iliad.  This  is  especially  true  of  certain  character- 
istic classes  of  words,  such  as  terms  for  denoting  qualities,  and,  to  a 
greater  extent,  abstract  nouns.  The  language  of  the  Odyssey  is  per- 
ceptibly more  abstract  than  that  of  the  Iliad. 

Studied  in  the  same  way,  the  versification  of  the  two  poems  leads 
to  analogous  observations.  Despite  the  conservatism  of  tradition, 
indications  of  a  new  taste  are  apparent.  For  example,  ajwsiopesis,^ 
common  in  the  Iliad,  is  much  rarer  in  the  Odyssey.  If  this  were  a 
mere  process  of  primitive  versification,  we  should  have  a  riglit  to 
conclude  that  the  second  poem  was  composed  or  revised  entire 
after  tlie  first  had  received  definite  form  in  nearly  all  its  parts. 

C.  —  Conclusions  respecting  the  Two  Homeric  Poems 

12.  The  Two  Poems  and  their  Time.  Their  Influence.  —  From  all 
this  one  sees  that  the  two  great  Homeric  poems  represent  two  dis- 

'  [One  of  the  best  known  oxamplos  of  aposiope.sis  is  in  the  address  of  Juno 
to  the  Winds  in  Verfril's  vEneid,  I,  1.3.') :  "  How  dare  ye  winds  thus  stir  sea  and 
sky  to  tumult.    You  I'll  —  but  first 'tis  better  to  calm  the  troubled  waves."  —  Tr.] 


The  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  47 

tinct  phases  of  poesy  and  of  Ionic  civilization.  The  Iliad  is  essen- 
tially a  poem  of  war ;  it  must  have  been  composed  soon  after  the 
conquest,  when  men's  minds  were  still  full  of  the  passions  which  it 
had  excited.  Its  moral  inspiration  is  admiration  of  heroic  virtues, 
among  which  strength  and  courage  occupy  first  rank.  The  Odyssey 
betokens  an  aspiration  for  peace.  It  brings  before  us  kings  whose 
early  life  was  military,  such  as  Nestor  or  Menelaus,  and  who  are  at 
present  enjoying  their  riches  in  peace.  The  principal  hero,  Odys- 
seus, has  only  one  desire,  that  of  returning  home  to  enjoy  its  com- 
fort. The  poem  proclaims  the  social  value  of  law  and  justice ;  and 
though  it  still  admires  bodily  strength,  it  gives  equal  honor  to  clever- 
ness. It  seems  to  belong,  all  in  all,  to  the  time  when  Ionian  society 
was  organizing  and  had  come  to  be  less  occupied  with  military 
struggles  than  with  the  political  and  legai  questions  of  civil  life. 
The  dream  of  adventures  at  sea  shows  the  influence  of  the  first 
voyages  to  distant  shores,  which  were  a  prelude  to  the  great  move- 
ments of  colonization  in  the  eighth  century.  But,  of  course,  these 
are  only  general  indications,  and  can  teach  us  nothing  about 
the  exact  date  of  the  revision  or  addition  of  such  or  such  a 
passage. 

These  questions  of  date  and  origin,  though  important  enough  for 
literary  history  as  we  conceive  it,  had  only  a  mediocre  interest  for  the 
Greeks  themselves.  For  them,  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey,  with  a  few 
less  celebrated  works,  were  due  to  the  genius  of  a  single  poet,  who 
stood  alone  in  his  glory ;  and  they  admired  the  poems  long  before 
they  asked  any  questions  of  criticism  concerning  them.^ 

We  shall  trace  in  the  next  chapter  the  diffusion  of  epic  poesy 
and  incidentally  that  of  the  Homeric  poems.  The  Iliad  and  the 
Odyssey  probably  became  popular  more  readily  than  the  other 
works  of  their  class  because  of  their  superiority.  At  any  rate, 
they  exercised  a  far-reaching  and  profound  influence.  These  old 
poems,  everywhere  repeated,  were  well  suited  to  develop  in  their 
hearers  the  sentiments  with  which  they  were  filled  and  with  them 
a  keen  sense  of  literary  beauty.  Poesy  had  shown  its  power 
of  exaltation  and  idealization  in  such  a  way  that  well-established 
traditions  of  art  and  taste  were  necessarily  the  result.  If  the  first 
Greek  poetry  had  been  Avritten  on  Doric  soil,  it  would  probably  have 
been  different  in  character,  and  would  have  transmitted  its  character 
in  some  measure  to  the  succeeding  generations  of  poets.  The  Ionic 
poetry  of  the  Homerides,  sparkling  in  their  two  great  masterpieces, 

1  The  first  persons  who  separated  the  Ilidd  and  the  Odyssey,  assigning  them 
to  different  poets,  were  the  Alexandrians.  The  scholars  who  did  this  were 
accordingly  called  Separators,  01  Xupll^ovrts. 


48  Greek  Literature 

assured  the  influence  of  Ionia  over  the  products  of  Hellenic  imagina- 
tion. It  contributed  to  render  this  imagination  freer,  more  supple, 
more  animate  with  life  and  grace,  more  truly  human.  As  the  other 
epic  poems  lost  favor,  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  absorbed  all  the 
active  forces  of  epic  society,  but  only  to  confirm  their  own  prece- 
dence. Once  become  classic,  the  two  came  to  be  used  at  an  early 
})eriod  as  an  important  element  in  the  moral  and  intellectual  edu- 
cation of  the  Greek  youth.  The  poems  were  to  transmit  from  gen- 
eration to  generation  an  acquaintance  Avith  heroic  epic,  to  quicken 
men's  minds,  to  develop  in  them  a  sense  of  beauty,  to  present  to 
them  an  ideal  at  once  national  and  human,  to  render  them  capable 
of  generous  and  deep  emotion.  AVe  can  see  in  various  Greek  poets, 
and  even  in  prose  writers,  such  as  Plato,  the  evident  influence  of 
Homer.  But  the  occult  influence  which  he  exercised  upon  the 
masses  and  upon  the  moral  and  intellectual  life  of  the  whole  nation 
is  something  more  easily  felt  than  demonstrated.  It  existed,  how- 
ever, and  a  very  happy  one  it  was.  Ionia  rendered  to  Greece  the 
immense  service  of  giving  her,  in  her  very  infancy,  an  admirable 
poetry,  wonderfully  appropriate  to  education  and  progress,  and  an 
inexhaustible  source  of  ideas  and  inspiration.  Hellenic  genius  derived 
thence  some  of  its  force  without  losing  either  its  good  sense  or  its 
liberty.  Homeric  poetry  did  not  enslave  it :  it  was  too  young  and 
childlike  to  impose  itself  as  an  immutable  law  upon  minds  daily 
growing  richer  in  experience ;  yet,  owing  to  the  lessons  they  re- 
ceived from  it,  these  minds  could  assert  their  liberty  without  deny- 
ing its  influence  or  abandoning  its  precedents.  It  taught  them  to 
idealize  objects  of  reality,  to  summon  their  observation  daily  to  the 
service  of  art,  and  to  create  a  form  of  beauty  in  accord  with  truth, 
(rreece  continued  only  the  more  faithful  because  her  allegiance  w-as 
voluntary. 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE   CYCLIC  P0P:TS  AND   THE   RHAPSODISTS 

1.  Epic  Poetry  after  Homer.  The  Cycle. i  2.  Diffusion  of  Epic  Chants.  The 
Rhapsodists.  3.  Certain  Heroic  Epics  in  Particular.  4.  Pisander  of  Rhodes. 
5.  Homeric  Hymns  and  Epigrams.  0.  Parodies  of  Epic :  the  Manjites,  the 
Batrachomyomachia,  etc.     End  of  the  Period  of  Heroic  Epic. 

1.  Epic  Poetry  after  Homer.  The  Cycle. — We  have  seen  that, 
beside  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey,  epic  chants  must  have  been  freely 
produced  in  Asiatic  Greece  during  the  two  centuries  immediately 
preceding  the  beginning  of  the  Olympiads.  These  chants  were  at 
that  time  in  demand  in  all  Ionic  cities,  and  the  bards  endeavored  to 
satisfy  a  taste  which  to  them  had  become  profitable.  The  same 
condition  appears  to  have  continued,  though  to  a  less  extent,  through 
the  eighth  and  seventh  centuries,  and  not  to  have  ceased  wholly  till 
the  end  of  the  sixth.  This  decadence  of  heroic  epic  is  due  to  several 
causes,  chief  among  Avhieh  are :  the  exhaustion  of  subjects  after  a 
period  of  such  abundant  production  ;  the  advent,  and  then  the  happy 
triumph,  of  lyric  poetry ;  and  above  all,  in  the  sixth  century,  the 
transformation  of  the  dithyranib  -  and  the  birth  of  tragedy,  which 
made  men  feel  the  monotony  and  tedium  of  the  old  compositions. 
Moreover,  the  progress  of  reflection  and  of  interest  in  the  past  gave 
rise  to  prose,  called  into  existence  philosophy,  history,  and  geography, 
and  everywhere  brought  the  marvellous  into  discredit.  Finally,  social 
changes  were  taking  place  :  the  decline  of  the  aristocracy,  the  increase 
of  general  culture  through  more  abundant  commercial  intercourse,  the 
influx  of  ideas  and  of  facts  of  knowledge,  the  new  taste  for  discus- 
sion—  everything,  in  fact,  which  slowly  transforms  a  people,  docile, 
credulous,  and  unlimitedly  attentive,  into  one  more  difhcnlt  to 
satisfy,  eager  for  lively-  emotions,  readily  influenced  by  new  ideas, 
and  above  all  impatient  and  changeal)le.     It  would  be  highly  inter- 

1  Editions  :  G.  Dindorf.  Ilomrri  Cnrminn  ft  Cycli  Epici  Reliquice.  Paris, 
Didot,  l!>;]7-185(') ;  G.  Kiiikel.  Epicurnm  ilnvniruin  Friiijmcntn.  I,  Leipsic.  1877. 
'J'he  suminarios  of  Proclus  are  given  in  15.  Westphal,  Scriptures  Metrid  Grivi.  1. 
Leipsic.  1860. 

Consult  Welcker.  Der  episrhe  Cycliis,  Bonn,  1849-1865 ;  Wilaniowilz- 
MiVilfiidorf,  Ilmncrisrhf  Untcrsurhumjen.  Berlin,  1884. 

-'  [More  fully  described  in  chap.  X.  —  Tr. ] 
E  4!) 


50  Greek  Literature 

esting,  were  it  possible,  to  trace  the  history  of  the  heroic  epic 
through  those  centuries;  but  antiquity  itself  early  lost  all  exact 
knowledge  of  the  subject,  and  has  left  us  only  incomplete  and 
untrustworthy  evidence.  All  that  we  dare  attempt  is  to  put  our- 
selves, in  a  general  way,  into  the  midst  of  a  period  full  of  obscurity. 

It  has  been  usual,  since  antiquity,  to  designate  most  of  these  lost 
poems  as  cyclic.  The  word  ''cycle"  means  the  whole  body  of  post- 
Homeric  epics,  embracing  almost  all  the  heroic  legends.  It  is 
important,  in  the  very  beginning,  to  get  a  clear  idea  of  the  meaning 
of  these  terms. 

The  first  classification  of  the  old  epic  poems  seems  to  have  been 
the  work  of  the  grammarian  Zenodotus  of  Ephesus,  who  was  libra- 
rian of  the  Ptolemies  at  Alexandria  in  the  third  century  b.c.  He 
arranged  the  poems  in  the  royal  library  and  catalogued  them  so  as 
to  form  a  cycle,  that  is,  something  complete  in  itself.  Owing  to  his 
collection,  the  mass  of  old  poems  appeared  thenceforth  to  be  entire 
and  complete.  Zenodotus  not  only  respected  the  independence  of 
the  works,  but  did  not  even  try  to  harmonize  them  or  to  form  them 
into  a  continuous  series.  That  was  the  work  of  the  mythograpliers. 
Because  these  sought  in  the  old  poems  the  facts  which  the  poems 
contained,  and  wished  to  coordinate  those  facts,  they  made  such 
extracts  as  would  go  well  in  combination  with  one  another,  leaving 
aside  contradictory  portions  and  passages  that  repeated  tilings 
already  said.  Such  artificial  cycles  were  rather  numerous  in  the 
imperial  period.  Some  of  them  were  designed  for  use  in  the  schools  ; 
others  were  addressed  to  a  public  interested  in  ancient  lore.  "We 
still  possess,  under  the  name  of  Ilian  Tables,  some  tablets,  or  frag- 
ments of  tablets,  on  which  Avere  engraved  episodes  of  the  Trojan 
War,  as  recounted  in  the  cycle  of  some  famous  scholar  of  the  time. 
Whether  designed  for  instruction  or  as  ornaments  for  libraries  and 
study-rooms,  they  attest  the  popularity  of  these  compositions.  The 
cycle  best  known  to  us  is  that  of  Proclus.  The  autlior,  it  is  said, 
was  a  grammarian  of  the  second  century  a.d.  ;  but  many  regard 
him  as  the  neo-Platonic  philosopher  who  lived  in  the  fifth  century. 
Whatever  the  truth  may  be,  his  cycle  is  a  simple  compilation, 
valuable  as  preserving  partial  summaries  of  certain  lost  epics,  to- 
gether with  the  names  of  the  poets  to  whom  they  were  attributed. 
But  in  making  use  of  it  to  reconstruct  an  image  of  Greek  epic,  we 
must  not  forget  that  it  has  come  down  to  us  considerably  disfigured. 
The  cyclic  authors  chose  among  the  poems  such  as  best  served  their 
purpose;  and  even  then,  they  neglected  whatever  they  could  not 
use.  Tlie  result  is  that  these  old  mutilated  works  always  seem, 
through  the  accounts  we  have  of  them,  to  have  been  composed  in  a 


The  Cyclic  Poets  and  the  Rhapsodists  51 

manner  to  harmonize  with  one  another,  an  idea  which  is  far  from 
the  truth. 

Before  speaking  more  particularly  of  any  one,  let  us  try  to  deter- 
mine where  they  all  belong  in  the  general  outline  we  have  made, 
and  to  indicate  their  common  characteristics. 

Most  of  them  appear  to  lack  the  natural  unity  of  the  Iliad  and 
the  Odyssey.  Owing  to  a  subtle  tendency  of  the  epic  to  resemble 
history,  which  it  really  contains  in  germ,  they  offered  continuous 
series  of  events  rather  than  the  development  of  a  passion  or  a  moral 
situation.  Such  is,  no  doubt,  the  reason  why  this  form  disappeared 
so  early.  And  as  works  of  art,  the  later  epics  are  inferior  to  the 
great  Homeric  poems,  whatever  may  have  been  their  merit  in  certain 
parts.  Furthermore,  having  been  composed  later,  when  invention 
was  beginning  to  be  less  active,  they  must  almost  all  have  suffered 
from  the  abuse  of  imitation  which  marks  the  decadence  of  artistic 
types.  They  doubtless  contained,  even  to  satiety,  the  same  epic 
themes,  the  same  treatment,  situations,  characteristic  features,  and 
style.  Beneath  a  superficial,  apparent  variation,  there  was  a  funda- 
mental monotony  and  an  irremediable  triteness.  What  was  later  to 
destroy  lyric  poetry  after  Pindar,  and  tragedy  after  the  great  poets 
of  the  fifth  century,  was  already  destroying  the  epic,  after  the 
first  Homerides. 

Whether  these  epics  were,  from  the  beginning,  great  poems  con- 
tinuous and  complete,  or  were  formed,  as  we  have  shown  in  the 
case  of  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey,  by  successive  additions,  we  can- 
not say ;  and  indeed  it  is  scarcely  possible  that  any  single  answer 
could  be  true  of  all.  The  most  ancient  ones,  composed  for  recita- 
tion under  the  same  conditions  as  the  Homeric  poems,  must  have 
been  formed  in  like  manner.  The  others,  produced  when  the  art 
of  writing  was  in  progress  and  the  lays  of  the  minstrels  were  being 
formed,  may  possibly  have  been  expanded  at  once  into  ample  com- 
positions. We  are  necessarily  reduced  in  the  matter  to  vague 
hypotheses. 

With  reference  to  their  subjects,  however,  these  poems  may  be 
distributed  in  a  certain  number  of  groups,  still  fairly  well  distin- 
guished. Some  of  them  are  connected  with  the  antique  legends  of 
cosmogony ;  such  were  the  Theogonies  and  Titauomachies,  which 
probably  differed  from  the  Hesiodic  poems  on  the  same  subjects  in 
being  less  didactic  and  more  dramatic.  Others  treated  certain 
points  in  the  early  history  of  families,  as  the  Danaid,  the  Phoceid, 
the  Minyad,  the  Atthis,  the  A7nazonia,  etc.  We  know  only  a  small 
number  of  titles  of  this  class,  but  it  is  probable  that  such  poems 
abounded  during  several  centuries,  forming  the  rich  basis  whence 


OZ 


Greek  Literature 


lyric  poetry,  tragedy,  Alexandrian  elegy,  and  archaeological  erudi- 
tion, each  in  turn,  drew  its  materials.  Still  other  poems  took  for 
their  subjects  the  exploits  of  famous  heroes.  Therefore,  from  the 
eighth  century,  and  perhaps  earlier,  down  to  the  sixth,  there  was  a 
great  number  of  Heracleids,  celebrating  the  labors  of  the  son  of  Alc- 
mena.  The  Capture  of  CEchalia,  attributed  to  Creophylus  of  Samos, 
belonged  to  this  group.  In  the  same  class  might  be  cited  at  least  one 
Tlieseld,  of  which  we  know  neither  the  author  nor  the  date.  But 
the  groups  of  poems  most  worthy  of  mention  are  those  connected 
Avith  the  great  legendary  events  of  the  heroic  age,  the  Tlieban  and 
Trojan  wars.  Evidently  the  two  wars,  owing  to  their  dramatic 
character,  were,  through  the  whole  epic  period,  the  two  subjects 
best  liked  by  both  poets  and  public' 

2.  Diffusion  of  the  Epic  Chants.  The  Rhapsodists.-  —  The  heroic 
epic,  after  having  arisen  in  Ionia,  seems  to  have  been  taken  up 
rather  quickly  in  the  other  parts  of  the  Greek  world,  and  to  have 
given  rise  there  to  a  poetic  activity  of  some  importance.  The  Ionic 
bards  must  have  been  tempted,  as  their  art  was  perfected,  to  go  ever 
farther  in  search  of  new  auditors ;  and  the  commercial  relations 
between  the  Greek  cities,  growing  more  and  more  common,  could 
not  but  foster  this  movement.  The  ai)pearance  of  the  first  Hesiodic 
poems  in  central  Greece,  about  the  eighth  century,  shows  that  the 
influence  of  Ionic  art  had  already  begun  to  make  itself  felt  there. 
Then,  too,  some  of  the  poems  just  cited  have  such  a  pronounced 
local  character  that  they  cannot  have  been  produced  elsewhere  than 
in  the  regions  with  which  they  are  connected.  At  all  events,  the 
poets  of  this  time  whose  names,  real  or  fanciful,  have  come  dov/u 
to  us,  seem  to  have  been  largely  natives  of  Asiatic  (xreece,  tlie 
islands  of  the  ^Egean,  or  tlie  eastern  shores  of  Greece  proper. 
One  may  say  that  the  heroic  ejiic,  from  beginning  to  end,  l)elonged 
chiefly  to  Oriental  and  Ionic  (ireece,  of  which  the  centre  is  the 
.Egean  Sea.  We  shall  see  in  the  next  chapter  that  the  main- 
laud  of  Greece  also  had  its  epic  poetry ;  but  this  was  sensibly 
different. 

Tlie  decadence  of  ei)ic  invention  made  necessary  a  transf<jrmation 
of  the  baids  into  rluqisodists.  Tlie  bard  was  a  poet  who.  thou^di 
often  reriting  the  lays  of  his  jiredecessors,  as  often  composed  new 
ones  of  his  own.  In  the  beginning  he  sang,  in  tlie  jn-oper  sense  of 
the  word;  and  even  wlien  the  song  had  given  jdace  to  simple  melo- 
diauiatic  recitation,  the  bard  still  rightfully  retained  the  name  of 

'  'This  will  1h>  (liscu.sspd  more  fully  in  section  :1. — Tr.] 

-  <'i>!i<ult  Scni:<'liuscli.    Dissfirtudinips  JloriU'rii-a;,   I  ami  II.   in  the  Teubncr 

editiuii  ■•  i  ihc  ///'/'/  lui'l  O.'vs.---  -/. 


The  Cyclic  Poets  and  the  Rhapsodists  53 

dotSos,  which  means  "  singer  " ;  for  he  continued  to  use  the  cithara 
in  the  preludes,  and  to  sustain  by  occasional  notes  the  cadence  of 
his  sentences.  But  at  an  undetermined  period,  probably  in  the 
eighth  century,  the  antique  mode  fell  into  disuse.  The  singer  was 
succeeded  by  a  reciter  called  a  rhapsodist.  With  some  few  excep- 
tions he  was  no  longer  a  poet ;  at  the  most,  he  composed  only  prel- 
udes. His  principal  office  was  to  recite  the  epics  that  had  become 
classic.  He  was,  properly  speaking,  an  artist  in  elocution.  He  came 
before  the  public  without  the  cithara,  richly  dressed,  with  a  sprig  of 
laurel  in  his  hand,  and  declaimed,  with  a  trained  voice  and  appro- 
priate gesture,  certain  portions  of  the  old  compositions.  Hence 
comes  his  name,  which  seems  to  mean  "  stitcher  of  songs." '  The  art 
of  the  rhapsodist  was  intimately  connected  with  the  formalities  of 
the  religious  festivals  that  were  developed  in  Greece,  beginning  with 
the  eighth  century.  The  cities  that  organized  these  festivals  called 
in  reciters  of  old  poems  to  make  the  festivals  more  splendid.  Even 
competitive  recitations  were  established.  Nothing  could  have  con- 
tributed more  to  the  diffusion  of  the  epic  poems.  It  was  the  rhapso- 
dists who  carried  Homeric  poetry  through  Greece.  Their  influence, 
it  is  very  certain,  was  great  in  bringing  about  the  dominant  success 
of  the  lUad  and  the  Odyssey. 

A  tradition  which  does  not  seem  improbable  tells  us  that,  at 
Athens  in  the  beginning  of  the  sixth  century,  SqIqq -instituted,  or 
at  least  made  laws  for,  the  recitations  of  the  rhapsodists;  and  that 
afterwards  Pisistratus  and  his  sons  completed  the  work.  In  the 
absence  of  rules,  in  fact,  each  rhapsodist  had  to  choose  arbitrarily 
the  portions  of  the  Homeric  poems  best  suited  to  his  talent  —  one 
choosing,  for  example,  brilliant  and  vigorous  passages,  another  those 
in  which  fine  painting  of  character  abounded.  If  the  order  of  reci- 
tation was  not  yet  governed  by  the  order  of  events  in  the  poem,  it 
might  happen  that  the  people  heard  the  supplication  of  Priam  at  the 
feet  of  Achilles  earlier  than  the  quarrel  of  Achilles  with  Agamemnon. 
The  first  task  of  the  organizers  of  the  festivals  was  to  decide  that 
the  lays  should  be  recited  in  the  order  of  the  events.  The  unity  of 
the  Homeric  poems,  accordingly,  was  felt  much  more  keenly ;  men 
were  led  to  compare  the  various  texts  of  the  several  lays  and  choose 
those  which  harmonized  best  with  one  another,  verifying  and  com- 

1  ?a-rrTwv  iiriuv  doidoi,  says  Piiidar,  Nem.  II,  2,  and  this  seems  the  proper 
etymology.  The  first  element  of  the  word  pas/'vSis  is  doubtle.ss  closely  connected 
with  pd/'is,  "a  .seam"  ;  the  latter  word,  indeed,  does  not  belong  to  the  cla.ssic 
language,  but  popular  instinct  may  have  given  it  a  form  more  or  less  regular 
that  it  might  enter  into  the  composition  of  the  term  of  which  need  was  felt. 
'Pa\pif}5eiv  is  to  '•  sing  and  stitch,"  as  Pindar  felt.  The  word  at  first  may  have  been 
slightly  disdainful;  the  bard,  an  inventor,  regarded  with  scorn  the  ••i)oem- 
stitchers  "  who  adorned  themselves  in  the  plumage  of  others. 


54  Greek  Literature 

pleting  their  harmony.  This  was  the  work  of  the  commission  of 
editors  who,  at  the  order  of  Pisistratus,  put  into  written  form  a  con- 
tinuous text  of  the  Iliad  and  Odyssey.  The  work  was  a  result  of  the 
popularity  of  rhapsodic  recitations.  Thus  one  can  see  what  the 
importance  of  such  recitations  was  for  the  history  of  epic  poetry. 

This  very  cursory  sketch  of  the  vicissitudes  of  epic  will  permit 
us  to  arrange  in  proper  order  a  few  works  and  names.  We  shall 
confine  ourselves  to  the  most  important. 

3.  Certain  Heroic  Epics  in  Particular,  —  The  Expedition  against 
Thebes  must  have  been  celebrated  in  a  large  number  of  poems. 
The  leading  ones  were :  the  (Edipodeia,  on  the  misfortunes  of 
CEdipus,  which  it  connected  probably  with  the  crime  of  his  father 
Laius ;  the  Thehaid,  on  the  rivalry  between  Eteocles  and  Polynices, 
and  on  the  expedition  of  Adrastus  and  the  chiefs  assembled  by  him 
against  Thebes,  the  death  of  the  two  brothers,  and  the  disaster  of 
the  Argives ;  lastly  the  Epigoni,  a  poem  on  the  second  Theban  War, 
that  was  carried  on  by  the  son  of  Polynices  against  the  son  of 
Eteocles  and  terminated  in  the  victory  of  the  Argives.  Of  these 
three  poems,  the  most  important  by  far  was  the  Thehaid,  which 
appears  to  have  won  admiration  by  the  grandeur  of  its  scenes,  the 
relief  into  which  certain  personages  were  thrown,  and  the  boldness 
and  force  of  its  poetic  invention.  It  was  the  original  of  the  Thebaids 
produced  later ;  and  we  shall  find  in  tragic  literature  the  trace  of  tlie 
influence  which  it  exercised.  We  know  nothing  of  its  date,  nor  of 
its  original  author.  Like  most  of  the  cyclic  poems,  it  was  long 
attributed  by  vague  tradition  to  Homer.  But  when  criticism  began, 
certain  traits  were  noted  in  the  poem  which  made  such  an  attribu- 
tion impossible.     After  that  it  was  regarded  as  anonymous. 

The  expedition  of  the  Greeks  against  Troy,  together  with  its 
beginnings  and  consequences,  was  the  favorite  material  for  the  poets 
of  the  time.  An  Ionic  poet  of  Miletus,  whose  name  is  given  as 
Arctinus,  composed,  it  is  said,  about  the  time  when  the  Olympiads 
began,  some  chants  narrating  great  events  in  the  siege  of  Troy  after 
the  death  of  Hector.  In  the  cycle  of  Proclus,  these  chants  are 
divided  into  two  groups,  with  two  distinct  titles;  one,  the  Ethiopid, 
has  for  its  principal  incident  the  death  of  ^Memnon  the  Ethiopian, 
son  of  Aurora,  who  came  to  the  aid  of  Priam  and  was  slain  by 
Achilles;  the  other,  the  Capture  of  Ilium.  But  it  seems  probable 
that  the  division  is  the  work  of  the  cyclic  authors,  who  made  two 
parts  of  tlie  poem.  It  comprised  a  series  of  chants,  more  or  less?  in 
harmony  with  those  of  the  Iliad  as  then  existing,  and  closed  with 
the  victory  of  the  besiegers.  A  century  later  —  about  650,  if  we 
may  believe  witnesses  that  have  generally  but  mediocre  authority  — 


The  Cyclic  Poets  and  the  Rhapsodists  55 

a  poet  of  Lesbos,  named  Lesches,  composed  another  series  of  chants 
called  the  Little  Iliad.  According  to  the  summary  of  Proclus,  these 
were  inserted  between  the  two  poems  of  Arctinus  so  as  to  connect 
them  with  each  other.  But  other  evidence  causes  us  to  believe  that 
the  arrangement  of  Proclus  greatly  altered  the  poem.  In  fact, 
Lesches  recast  the  lays  of  Arctinus,  or  at  least  a  large  part  of  them, 
to  his  own  liking,  completing  them  with  new  episodes.  There  is  a 
legend  representing  the  two  poets  as  competitors  contending  for  a 
prize  in  song.  Lesches,  though  a  century  later  than  Arctinus,  was, 
accordingly,  simply  a  rival  treating  the  same  subject. 

With  this  group  are  connected  two  other  celebrated  poems :  the 
Cyprian  Lays,  attributed  to  a  certain  Stasinus  of  Cyprus ;  and  the 
Nosti,  whose  author,  according  to  the  majority  of  accounts,  was  a 
poet  of  Troezen  named  Hegias.  In  truth,  however,  neither  the 
names  of  the  poets  nor  the  authorship  of  the  poems  are  well  attested. 
As  to  their  dates,  we  are  left  quite  in  ignorance.  The  lays  called 
Cyprian,  as  represented  in  the  summary  of  Proclus,  recount  the 
beginning  of  the  Trojan  War,  the  muster,  the  two  successive  expe- 
ditions of  the  Greeks,  and  the  commencement  of  the  siege.  The 
narrative  thus  supplied  what  was  lacking  in  the  Iliad,  which  was  its 
sequel.  It  is  impossible  to  say  to-day  whether  the  harmony  was  so 
exact  as  this  summary  leads  one  to  suppose.  Nevertheless,  imitation 
of  the  Iliad  is  obvious  in  the  style  and  structure  of  parts  of  these 
lays.  Composed  in  the  isle  of  Cyprus,  as  their  name  indicates, 
they  gave  great  importance  to  the  goddess  Aphrodite,  whose  wor- 
ship was  particularly  prevalent  there.  The  Nosti  related  the  adven- 
tures of  the  Greek  chiefs  after  the  capture  of  Troy,  particularly  the 
return  of  Neoptolemus,  the  voyages  of  Menelaus,  and  the  death  of 
Agamemnon.  It  would  seem  that  the  author  had  purposely  omitted 
the  misfortunes  of  Odysseus  as  being  already  told  in  detail  in  the 
Odyssey.  But  the  form  of  his  poem  remained  very  obscure  in  the 
summary  of  Proclus. 

Mention  of  the  Telegony,  attributed  to  a  sixth-century  poet  of 
Cyrene  named  Eugammon,  completes  this  list.  The  poem  describes 
the  last  days  of  Odysseus,  who  was  slain  by  his  son  Telegonus. 

For  us  these  poems  are  veiled  in  a  deep  obscurity.  But  in  the 
later  development  of  Greek  literatxire  they  had  an  importance  which 
must  not  be  overlooked.  Long  attributed  vaguely  to  Homer,  they 
preserved  and  transmitted  the  old  legends,  which  without  them 
would  have  perished.  It  is  in  these  epic  lays  that  the  lyric  and 
tragic  poets  found  a  large  number  of  their  themes.  ^^schyhis, 
Sophocles,  and  Euripides  take  subjects  from  the  cycle  even  oftener 
than  from  Homer.      Moreover,  the  products  of  the  plastic  arts,  vase 


56  Greek  Literature 

paintings,  sculptures,  relief  work,  attest  how  popular  were  the  scenes 
celebrated  by  these  poems.  It  may  justly  be  said  that  they  formed 
the  education  of  Greek  fancy  during  its  youth  and  prepared  the 
works  of  its  maturity. 

4.  Pisander  of  Rhodes.*  —  Among  the  writers  of  Heracleids,  only 
one  is  still  known  by  name.  He  was  a  Khodian,  Pisander  of  Cami- 
ros,  who  lived,  according  to  Suidas,  about  the  middle  of  the  seventh 
century.  His  'HpaKAcia  contained  probably  twelve  chants,  celebrat- 
ing the  twelve  labors  of  the  hero.  He  is  said  to  have  been  the  first  to 
represent  Heracles  with  a  club.  Although  his  epic  is  Avholly  lost, 
we  can  judge  by  these  facts  of  the  importance  it  had  in  the  develop- 
ment of  the  legend.  This  had  been,  till  then,  diffuse,  fluctuating, 
and  marred  by  inconsistencies  of  detail.  Pisander,  taking  his  inspi- 
ration from  earlier  poems,  produced  a  coherent  narrative,  which 
thenceforward  Avas  authoritative.  His  poem  fixed  the  classic  type 
of  Heracles  and  the  cycle  of  his  labors. 

5.  Homeric  Hymns  and  Epigrams.-  —  Though  most  of  the  great  epic 
works  of  the  time  have  disappeared,  yet  chance  has  preserved  for  us 
a  certain  number  of  short  poems  known  under  the  name  of  Homeric 
hymns  and  epigrams.  Only  part  of  them,  however,  have  literary 
value ;  yet  they  all  have  a  certain  interest  as  documents  relating  to 
the  history  of  the  rhapsodists. 

The  hymns,  numbering  thirty-three,  serve  as  preludes  (Trpooi/xta) 
to  the  recitations  of  the  rhapsodists.  The  grouj),  formed  probably 
in  the  Alexandrian  period,  figured  in  antiquity  among  the  works 
attributed  to  Homer.  In  reality,  every  lay  in  the  group  is  later  than 
the  Iliad  or  the  Od>/ssey.  Among  the  hymns,  those  worthy  of  special 
mention  are  the  four  longer  ones,  which  probably  were  composed  by 
different  bards  between  the  eighth  and  sixth  centuries.  These  are 
the  first,  to  Apollo;  the  second,  to  Hermes ;  the  third,  to  Aphrodite; 
and  the  fourth,  to  Demeter.  They  are  regular  epic  chants,  in  which 
are  related  certain  episodes  in  the  life  of  the  gods;  and  are  not 
inferior  to  many  passages  of  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey.  The 
Hymn  to  Apollo,  probably  composed  of  several  portions  originally 
distinct,  tells  of  the  god's  birth  at  Delos  and  his  establishment  at 
Delphi.  It  is  remarkable  for  its  brilliance  and  grace,  the  variety  of 
its  subject-matter,  and  its  tone.     The  Hymn  to  Hermes  celebrates 

^  Edition-^  :  Tlie  frasnients  of  I'isander  are  in  the  Didot  edition  of  Hesiod 
and  in  Kinkci.  E/nronnn  dracfurum  Fraijmenta. 

2  EiMTioNs  :  The  Didot  Jlomcri  Carmina :  G.  Baumeister.  Hymni  IIo- 
merici,  Leipsic,  iJSOO;  Tierron,  U  Odyssee  <V Homer e,  Paris,  1875  (the  Hymns 
are  at  the  end  of  vol.  II)  ;  E.  Abel.  Humeri  Hymni,  Leipsic,  1886  ;  A.  Gemoll, 
Die  homerisrhen  Hymncii.  Leipsic,  1880  ;  A.  Goodwin,  Hymni  Jlome.riri,  Ox- 
ford. 1893.  The  Epiijv'ims  are  added  to  the  Hymns  in  the  editions  of  I'ierron 
and  Abel,  and  in  the  Didot  edition. 


The  Cyclic  Poets  and  the  Rhapsodists  57 

with  merry  lightness  the  birth  of  the  son  of  Maia  and  the  first 
proofs  he  gives  of  his  characteristic  shrewdness  by  the  invention  of 
the  cithara  and  the  theft  of  the  oxen  of  Apollo.  The  Hymn  to 
Demeter,  of  which  the  spirit  is  truly  religious,  tells  of  the  grief  of 
the  goddess  when  deprived  of  her  daughter,  and  describes  the  insti- 
tution of  the  Eleusinian  Mysteries.  Finally,  the  Hymn  to  Aphrodite, 
the  least  original  of  the  four,  is  a  picture  of  voluptuous  elegance,  in 
which  are  depicted  the  amours  of  Aphrodite  and  Anchises.  The 
shorter  hymns,  twenty-nine  in  number,  are  products  of  very  diverse 
origin  aud  value.  Most  of  them  are  mere  short  invocations, 
accompanied  sometimes  by  a  brief  narrative.  One  of  the  best,  the 
sixth,  tells  of  the  adventure  of  Dionysus  when  captured  by  the 
pirates.  In  general,  in  these  short  poems,  the  invention  is  mediocre, 
formulas  abound,  and  the  characteristic  stamp  is  rather  that  of  a  pro- 
fession than  that  of  real  genius.  There  is  evident  exhaustion  of  an 
art  continuing  to  live  only  as  tradition  and  imitation.  Some  few 
peculiar  poems  show  traces  of  Orphism,  the  creeds  of  which  were 
formed  in  the  sixth  century. 

Under  the  term  Homeric  Epigrams  are  comprised  seventeen  short 
compositions  preserved  for  us  in  the  Life  of  Homer  falsely  attributed 
to  Herodotus.  For  the  most  part  they  concern  themselves  with 
various  incidents  in  the  life  of  the  rhapsodists,  notwithstanding  the 
representation  that  they  belong  to  an  earlier  date.  We  see  clearly 
enoiigli  that  they  were  artificially  grouped  around  the  name  of 
Homer;  but  of  their  real  origin  we  know  nothing. 

6.  Parodies  of  Epic.  The  Margites,  the  Batrachomyomachia,  etc. 
The  IlaiYvia.  End  of  the  Period  of  Heroic  Epic.^  —  Before  finishing  this 
chapter,  a  few  words  remain  to  be  said  about  a  number  of  works  of 
mediocre  merit,  that  are  of  interest  as  parodies  of  Homeric  epic.  It 
is  a  commonplace  that  the  various  types  of  literary  composition,  as 
they  grow  old,  tend  to  become  ridiculous.  The  heroic  epic  was 
perhaps  more  liable  in  this  respect  than  any  other  literary  type, 
because  of  its  traditional  pomp,  its  archaic  formulas,  and  its  ideal 
conceptions   so  much  in  contrast  with  the  common  walks  of  life. 

Aristotle  attributed  to  Homer  the  origin  of  comedy,  ascribing  to 
him  the  poem  entitled  Margites,  of  which  lie  was  thought  to  be  the 
author.  We  possess  only  six  verses  of  the  work,  in  three  fragments  ; 
but  we  know  from  various  accounts  that  it  treated  in  ei)ic  form  the 

1  Editions:  The  fragments  of  the  M<tr{iitcs  are  in  the  Didot  Homrri 
Carmina,  and  in  Kaibel,  Epic.  Orax:  Fnnj.  I.  Tiie  liatrarhomyomachia  is 
added  to  the  Ifi/mnx  in  riorron  and  in  the  Didot  edition,  and  is  pnblislied  sepa- 
rately by  O.  Rannieister,  Bdtrdchomyomnrhid,  (liittingen.  1852,  and  by  A.  Lnd- 
wich,  Dit'  htnncrischr  Batrachomyomachia,  wiili  the  scholia  and  the  paraphrases, 
Leiiisic,  Teubner,  IH'.tO. 


58  Greek  Literature 

adventures  of  a  simpleton  who  was  unable  to  act  like  other  people. 
Ignorant  and  conceited,  he  performed  a  series  of  stupid  acts  for 
which,  presumably,  he  had  to  pay  dear.  Satire  here  took  the  place 
of  epic  grandeur.  This  ridiculous  character  was  celebrated  like  an 
epic  personage,  though  he  was  the  very  opposite  of  a  hero.  Such  a 
work  could  not  be  produced  except  in  the  decline  of  epic  poetry.  It 
cannot,  at  any  rate,  be  attributed  to  a  Homeric  poet.  Besides, 
iambic  verses  are  mingled  with  the  hexameters ;  and  this  betokens 
an  origin  posterior  to  Archilochus  and  Simonides  of  Amorgus.  It 
has  been  attributed  to  Pigres  the  Carian,  brother  of  Queen  Artemisia, 
who  lived  at  the  beginning  of  the  fifth  century.  It  is  scarcely 
probable,  however,  that  the  poem  is  so  recent.  Yet  it  must  have 
originated  in  the  decadence  of  heroic  epic. 

With  the  Margites  may  be  compared  the  epic  jest  entitled  the 
War  of  the  Frogs  and  Mice  {BaTpaxofj-vofrnxui),  which  we  still  possess. 
The  poem  recounts  in  three  hundred  verses  a  furious  war  which 
arose  between  the  frogs  of  a  marsh  and  the  mice  of  the  vicinity, 
owing  to  the  death  of  a  mouse  whom  a  frog  had  invited  to  a  pleasure 
party  on  the  water  and  had  allowed  to  drown.  The  gods,  at  first 
neutral,  finally  interfered  to  save  tlie  frogs  from  destruction ;  but 
even  their  lightning  was  not  enough  to  put  the  victorious  mice  to 
flight.  To  do  this,  it  was  necessary  that  an  army  of  crabs  should 
appear  on  the  scene.  Such  is  its  theatrical  mechanism  and  its 
resolution. 

As  a  parody  of  heroic  epic,  the  author  imitates  the  style,  the 
formulas,  the  traditional  treatment,  and  the  narratives  of  epic. 
According  to  Suidas  he  was  the  same  Pigres  whom  we  have  just 
considered,  and  there  is  no  serious  reason  for  doubting  the  testimony. 
The  poem  was  successful  in  antiquity,  and  still  more  so  in  the  Mid- 
dle Ages  among  the  Byzantines,  and  in  the  Renaissance.  Keally, 
however,  it  is  mediocre.  Even  allowing  for  alterations  in  the  text, 
it  is  difficult  to  praise  its  style,  which  is  often  insipid.  Q'he  few 
ingenious  inventions  of  detail  conceal  but  poorly  the  dryness  and 
nieagreness  of  imagination.  As  the  only  specimen  of  the  epic  of 
beasts  in  Greek  literature,  the  Batrachomyomachia  has  its  value ; 
but  as  a  work  of  art,  it  is  of  inferior  order. 

Some  of  the  biographers  of  Homer  mention,  under  his  name, 
various  analogous  poems,  which  they  call  the  Games  (Ilatyj/ta).  It 
is  probablf!  that  there  were,  before  and  after  the  Batrachoynyomachia, 
some  other  epic  parodies  of  the  same  sort,  whose  leading  characters 
were  animals.  Nothing  remains  of  them,  however,  except  uninter- 
esting titles. 

Such  works  show  sufficiently  that,  by  the  beginning  of  the  fifth 


The  Cyclic  Poets  and  the  Rhapsodists  59 

century,  the  period  of  heroic  epic  had  passed  by.  Long  narratives 
seemed  tedious.  Men  were  weary  of  combats,  challenges  of  heroes, 
and  assemblies  human  and  divine.  Epic  machinery  had  exhausted 
all  the  vitality  which  made  it  useful.  Men  wanted  something  new. 
For  a  long  time  lyric  poetry,  which  had  a  much  greater  power  over 
men's  hearts,  had  been  in  existence  to  charm  them.  But  before 
considering  this  form  of  poetry,  we  must  go  back  to  speak  of  the 
didactic  epic.  It  arose  under  the  influence  of  the  heroic  epic  and 
became,  in  its  time  of  popularity,  almost  as  successful  as  its  model. 


CHAPTER  V 

HESIOD  AND  THE  HESIODIC  POETRY 

1.  Didactic  Poetry :  its  Origins,  2.  Hesiod.  3.  The  Poem  of  the  Works  and 
Days.  Its  Composition.  4.  The  Principal  Poet.  His  Philosophy.  His 
Poetic  Merit.  His  Language.  6.  Other  Moral  and  Technical  Poems. 
6.  The  Theogony.  Subject  of  the  Poem.  Its  Unity  and  Composition.  The 
Author  and  the  Date.  7.  Merit  of  the  Theogony.  Its  Language.  8.  Other 
Genealogical  Hesiodic  Poems.  The  Catalogues,  the  Eoice,  the  ^giniius, 
etc.  Detached  Episodes :  the  Shield  of  Heracles,  etc.  9.  Lesser  Writers 
of  Genealogic  Poetry. 

1.  Didactic  Poetry :  its  Origins.^  —  The  poetry  which  we  have 
treated  thus  far  aimed  principally  to  please.  If  it  preserved  the 
meraorj'  of  great  events,  its  aim  was  less  to  instruct  its  hearers  than 
to  charm  them ;  and  if  it  brought  virtues  and  vices  into  view,  it  was 
rather  to  produce  emotion  than  to  instruct.  Indirectly,  like  all  nar- 
rative poetry,  it  doubtless  gave  moral  instruction,  and  even,  to  some 
extent,  taught  history.  But  it  did  this,  if  we  may  say  so,  uninten- 
tionally, and  therefore  without  thought  of  exactitude.  Quite  differ- 
ent is  the  spirit  of  the  poetry  to  which  we  now  address  ourselves. 
The  latter,  when  it  touches  a  point  of  morals,  gives  advice  or  makes 
prohibitions ;  when  it  treats  the  arts,  the  trades,  the  sciences,  instead 
of  describing  them  for  the  pleasure  of  the  imagination,  it  lays  down 
their  rules ;  when  it  recalls  the  events  of  the  })ast,  the  history  of  gods 
or  men,  it  traces  their  relations,  repeats  their  appellatives,  tries,  in  a 
word,  to  fix  in  our  minds  what  we  ought  to  know,  without  pretend- 
ing to  excite  any  stirring  emotion  or  varied  pleasure.  It  is,  then,  a 
])oetry  essentially  didactic,  utilitarian,  and  severe.  It  may,  indeed, 
have  a  beauty  of  its  own  —  for  otherwise  it  would  not  be  poetry  ; 
but  really  it  cares  less  for  invention  than  for  observation  and  re])ort. 

While  heroic  poetry  had  its  favorite  abode  in  Asiatic  Greece  and 
in  the  islands,  this  poetry  appears  to  have  been  developed  rather  in 
Greece  proper.  Being  less  appropriate,  however,  to  the  lonians, 
who  loved  pleasure,  splendor,  and  elegance,  it  appears  to  have  found 

^  Consult  C'j.  Marcksclieffel.  Hesindi.  Eiimeli,  Cincpthonis  Fragmenta,  Leip- 
sic.  1840;  K.  E.  Sikes.  Fulklnre  in  the  Works  and  Days  of  JLaind  {Classical 
Jifview.  VII,  IS'.):;,  pp.  ;:B<!-3!t4). 

GO 


Hesiod  and  the  Hesiodic  Poetry  61 

its  proper  domain  among  the  peoples  of  central  Greece  and  the  Pelo- 
ponnesus, Boeotians,  Locrians,  Dorians,  the  races  of  toil,  of  fixed 
beliefs,  of  persistent  traditions,  and  of  utilitarian  tendencies.  These 
Greeks  of  the  mainland,  attached  to  their  soil,  stable  and  practical, 
instead  of  giving  themselves  over  to  the  fancy  of  the  bards,  early  sug- 
gested to  their  poets  a  taste  for  things  that  would  be  of  service.  Since 
there  was  a  public  which  wished  instruction  merely,  there  arose 
highly  talented  spirits  to  undertake  the  task. 

The  origins  of  didactic  poetry,  like  those  of  all  other  forms  of 
composition,  are  obscure.  Hesiod  certainly  did  not  create  outright 
a  wholly  new  type.  Before  his  time,  such  poetry  must  have 
existed,  at  least  in  a  crude  form.  In  the  absence  of  documents,  we 
may  think  of  it  as  in  the  form  of  oracles  in  verse,  applicable  to 
things  of  everyday  life ;  or  of  sayings,  technical  precepts,  formulas 
of  two  or  three  lines  for  the  use  of  men  in  various  trades,  lists  of 
feast-days,  or  genealogical  hymns.  Not  much  talent  was  needed  to 
give  such  matter  a  passable  form  that  would  aid  the  memory.  Any 
poet  whatever  could  perform  the  task.  And  without  such  poets, -it 
would  be  hard  to  understand  how  the  public  of  the  time  could  be 
prepared  to  enjoy  an  original  work  of  the  sort,  or  a  man  of  genius 
get  the  idea  of  attempting  it. 

It  seems  natural  to  suppose  that  these  first  attempts  were  made 
in  the  language  of  a  particular  district,  or  in  other  words,  in  the 
various  dialects  of  central  Greece,  if  that  be  the  place  of  their 
origin.  But  then  it  is  difficult  to  see  why  Hesiod  should  have  used 
the  Ionic  dialect  —  Avhich  he  seems  certainly  to  have  used,  notwith- 
standing the  contrary  hypotheses  we  shall  mention  later.  Without 
denying  that  rustic  poets  may  sometimes  have  composed  verse  in 
their  own  dialect,  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  such  a  practice  was 
not  general.  On  reflection,  we  need  not  be  surprised  to  find  it 
otherwise.  The  simple  use  of  hexameter  as  a  means  of  expression 
shows  a  desire  to  distinguisli  the  things  thus  treated  from  those  of 
ordinary  speech.  But  this  verse  had  been  brought  to  perfection  by 
Ionic  bards;  it  was  associated  with  Ionic  niytli.s,  and  therefore  with 
the  forms  of  the  Ionic  dialect ;  and  it  was  the  diffusion  of  certain  of 
these  myths  which  had  won,  even  in  Greece  proper,  appreciation  of 
their  original  merit.  In  using  hexameter  verse,  a  poet  would  be 
tempted  to  use  with  it  the  dialect  inseparal)Ie  from  it,  mingled  here 
and  there,  by  inadvertence  or  by  design,  with  certain  local  forms. 
Hence  the  advantage  of  lending  to  the  expression  something  exotic, 
which  would  ennoble  the  poetic  theme  and  render  it  more  worthy  of 
attention.  The  oracles  probably  set  the  example,  and  the  poets 
imitated  their  manner. 


62  Greek  Literature 

2.  Hesiod.^  —  It  is  the  unanimous  tradition  of  antiquity  that  the 
man  who  won  popular  favor  for  the  didactic  poem  was  called 
Hesiod.  He  is  the  first  poet  to  appear  with  really  individual  traits. 
Whereas,  for  us  all  the  Homeric  bards  mingle  together  into  an 
impersonal  type,  he  appears  in  his  work  as  a  man  to  whom  the  cir- 
cumstances of  life  and  his  own  character  gave  distinctive  features. 

According  to  a  passage  of  the  Works  and  Days  (vv.  633-640), 
against  whose  authenticity  no  decisive  objection  has  ever  been 
raised,  Hesiod's  father  lived  at  Cyme  in  ^Eolis  and  devoted  himself 
to  maritime  commerce.  Not  successful  in  gaining  a  fortune,  he  left 
his  native  district  and  went  to  live  in  Boeotia  in  the  village  of  Ascra, 
at  the  foot  of  Mount  Helicon,  where  he  purchased  a  small  estate. 
There  he  devoted  himself  to  tilling  the  soil.  At  Ascra,  apparently, 
his  two  sons,  Hesiod  and  Perses,  attained  manhood.  Hesiod  was, 
then,  at  least  by  origin,  an  Asiatic  Greek,  an  ^Eolian  whose  circum- 
stances brought  him  to  Boeotia.  From  infancy  he  lived  as  the  son 
of  a  small  landholder,  learning  all  the  details  of  rural  life,  and 
acquiring  the  tastes  and  ideas  characteristic  of  people  in  his  condi- 
tion. There  is  little  doubt  that  he  toiled  with  his  own  hands.  All 
his  poetry  marks  him  as  having  experienced  the  fatigue  of  manual 
labor.  Yet  this  was  not  so  arduous  as  to  prevent  him  from  culti- 
vating his  mind  at  the  same  time.  He  may  have  been,  even  in 
Asia,  the  pupil  of  some  Ionic  bard.  At  any  rate,  he  must  have 
found,  in  some  way,  the  means  of  learning  an  art;  for  even  the 
best-endowed  could  not  avoid  so  doing.  His  technical  apprentice- 
ship was  probably  only  a  small  part  of  his  poetic  education.  We 
must  think  of  him  as  at  once  a  lover  of  old  legends,  proverbs, 
enigmas,  and  fables,  and  as  a  rustic  philosopher,  with  an  inquiring 
mind,  a  memory  retentive  of  all  he  gathered  in  conversation,  and  a 
judgment  which,  inclining  toward  the  practical,  drew  thence  con- 
clusions that  grouped  themselves  spontaneously  into  an  outline  of 
doctrine.  Gifted  to  a  remarkable  degree  with  the  faculty  of  expres- 
sion, he  knew  how  to  render,  with  grace  and  cleverness,  in  short 
and  pungent  phrases,  in  unexpected  and  suggestive  figures,  his  own 
observations  or  those  of  others. 

Yet  there  was  needed  a  particular  circumstance  to  bring  his  origi- 
nality into  full  relief.  His  father  having  died,  the  estate  was  to  be 
divided  between  the  two  sons.     In  the  division,  properly  or  improp- 

1  Ancient  testimony  concerning  Hesiod:  Plutarch,  Hesiod;  Homer  and 
Hesiod ;  the  Life  of  Hesiod.  probably  due  to  Tzetzes.  found  in  Westermann. 
Vitarum  Scriptores,  and  in  various  editions  of  Hesiod  ;  Suidas,  Lexicon,  s.v. 
'llaiodos. 

Consult  the  prolegomena  of  Gottling  in  his  edition  of  Hesiod;  A.  Kirch- 
hoff,  Der  Roman  eines  Sophisten  (Sitzujigsber.  d.  Berl.  Akad..  1892,  p.  4o). 


Hesiod  and  the  Hesiodic  Poetry  63 

erly,  Hesiod  thought  himself  greatly  wronged.  A  suit  took  place 
between  his  brother  and  himself;  and  the  judges,  chiefs  of  the 
canton,  or  "  kings  "  ((3a(n\rj€<:),  decided  in  favor  of  Perses.  Hesiod 
knew,  or  thought  he  knew,  that  they  had  been  bribed  by  presents. 
A  feeling  of  the  injustice  done  him  aroused  his  resentment.  The 
principal  element  of  the  WbrJcs,  as  we  have  it  to-day,  is  a  didactic 
satire  against  violence  and  bad  faith,  whose  dominant  idea  is  that 
ill-gotten  wealth  is  profitless.  Originally  this  satire  must  have 
formed  a  distinct  work,  On  Justice.  It  was  the  poet's  vengeance. 
When  recited  at  the  reunions  of  his  friends,  if  it  did  not  bring  him 
the  restoration  of  what  he  had  lost,  it  could  scarcely  have  failed  to 
arouse  stirring  emotions  and  establish  his  reputation.  Whatever  its 
pungency,  he  could  rise  at  times,  like  a  true  poet,  above  his  personal 
griefs,  and  express  the  truths  of  all  time  in  beautiful  verses. 

The  implied  prediction  of  the  poem,  moreover,  appears  to  have 
been  fulfilled.  Perses,  enriched  by  an  unjust  decision,  soon  com- 
promised his  fortune  through  negligence  and  love  of  pleasure.  He 
was  obliged  to  borrow,  to  resort  to  expedients,  and  finally  to  confess 
himself  bankrupt.  Hesiod  then  addressed  to  him  another  poem,  On 
Works,  which  forms  to-day  the  second  division  of  the  *E/)ya.  From 
a  tone  of  anger  the  poet  passed  now  to  one  of  pity,  half  affected, 
half  disdainful.  As  before,  he  drew  from  particular  precepts  a 
general  law  of  conduct.  Though  addressing  Perses,  he  aimed  to 
teach  all  his  countrymen  the  ideal  of  life  for  the  toiling  peasant, 
what  he  must  do  and  what  avoid,  how  perform  his  labors  and  how 
organize  his  estate. 

To  these  two  works,  later  combined  in  one,  is  due  essentially  the 
poet's  fame.  We  cannot  say  that  any  of  the  other  poems  attributed 
to  him  are  really  authentic,  nor  can  we  absolutely  deny  that  they 
are  so.  But  had  he  written  nothing  more,  these  would  secure  for 
him  our  admiration. 

Another  passage  of  the  Works  (vv.  650-662)  not,  however,  of  un- 
disputed authenticity,  reveals  a  Hesiod  somewhat  different  from  the 
one  we  have  just  seen.  The  poet  here  appears  in  the  garb  of  a  pro- 
fessional minstrel,  who  asserts  that  he  was  a  competitor  at  Chalcis 
in  Euboea,  on  the  occasion  of  the  funeral  rites  of  a  certain  Amphi- 
damas,  and  that  he  won  there  the  prize  for  song.  Discarding  the 
purely  fantastic  tradition  which  later  grew  up  about  the  passage, 
according  to  wliich  Homer  was  his  rival  at  Chalcis,  the  incident  in 
itself  is  not  improbable,  though  of  small  importance.  AVhat  makes 
the  tradition  extremely  doubtful  is  the  character  of  Hesiod's  poetry. 
Apparently  this  poetry  would  not  need  to  submit  to  the  exigencies 
of  a  competitive  test. 


64  Chreek  Literature 

A  tradition,  from  which  it  is  impossible  to  glean  the  truth  with 
certainty,  says  that  Hesiod  died  at  (Enoe  near  Naupactus  in  Locris ; 
and  that  he  met  his  death  by  treachery.  His  body,  at  first  cast 
into  the  sea,  then  thrown  by  the  waves  upon  the  shore,  is  said  to 
have  been  buried  for  a  time  at  (Enoe,  and  then  transported  to 
Orchomenos. 

The  ancients  were  no  better  agreed  on  the  dates  of  his  life  than 
in  the  case  of  Homer.  They  did  not  even  agree  as  to  which  of  the 
two  poets  lived  the  earlier.  The  question  is  solved  by  the  mere  fact 
that  the  poetry  of  Hesiod  appears  to  be  the  offspring  of  Homeric 
poetry.  His  dat«,  therefore,  cannot  be  placed  much  earlier  than  the 
eighth  century.  Porphyry  and  many  others  assert  that  he  lived  about 
the  year  800.^  We  do  not  know  on  what  their  assertion  was  based, 
and  so  cannot  judge  of  its  value.  All  that  we  can  say  is  that  it 
agrees  with  general  probability.  That  is,  while  we  cannot  well  place 
it  earlier,  it  is  not  reasonable  to  place  it  much  later,  and  make 
Hesiod,  as  some  have  wished,  contemporary  with  Archilochus.  For 
Hesiod  lived  earlier  than  even  the  author  of  the  TJieogony,  who 
names  him  as  the  great  poet  of  the  region  around  Mount  Helicon ; 
and  we  shall  see  that  the  Theogony  could  hardly  have  been  composed 
much  later  than  the  beginning  of  the  Olympiads.  What  we  have 
said  of  Hesiod  applies,  however,  onh'  to  the  oldest  parts  of  the 
Works.  The  body  of  Hesiodic  literature  comprises  poetry  of  very 
diverse  character,  which  should  be  distributed  over  two  or  three 
centuries,  from  the  eighth  to  the  sixth. 

3.  The  Poem  of  the  Works  and  Days.  Its  Composition.'  —  Let 
us  consider  first  the  leading  and  most  truly  Hesiodic  poem,  entitled 
Works  and  Days  ("Epya  kol  "tififpai). 

In  its  present  state,  it  includes  a  little  more  than  eight  hundred 
verses.  But  a  simple  reading  is  enough  to  prove  that  it  is  an 
agglomeration  of  distinct  elements.  Criticism  has  tried,  in  our  day, 
to  distinguish  these ;  but  the  effort  has  been  only  partly  successful, 
because  the  conclusions  reached  are  not  universally  accepted.  This 
is  no  place  to  set  forth  and  discuss  the  various  opinions  proposed. 

^  Ilpsychius  of  Miletus  in  Suidas,  "HaloSos. 

2  KoiTioNs  :  (jiusiord.  llesioiU  Carmina.  in  his  PopKb  Gracci  Minores ;  Gott^ 
ling,  Hesiodi  Cannind,  Gotha,  1831  ;  ;!(l  ed.  by  J.  Flach.  Leipsic,  1878,  with  pro- 
legomena and  notes;  K.  ])i\bi\eT,  Hesiodi  Cnnniiui  et  Frnfjmpiita.  Paris,  Didot, 
1840;  Kochly  and  Kinkel,  Ilosiodca  qnm  supersuut  Omnia,  Leipsic,  Teubner, 
1870;  C.  Rzach,  Hesiodi  qua:  feruntnr  Omniit.  Leipsic,  1884,  text  only;  TJie 
Epics  of  Uesiod,  with  an  English  commentary,  by  F.  A.  Paley,  London,  18«il, 
with  notes. 

Consult  Lehrs,  Qurrstionrs  Epira:.  Kiinigsberg,  1837  ;  Gottling,  prole- 
gomena, sup.  cit.:  Kick.  Ilmiods  (Irilirhtp.  prolegomena,  Giittingen.  1887; 
W.  l'ep])niurK'r.  Zur  <'<imposiii(>n  ih  r  lirsiodischen  Werke  und  Tage  {Jhh.  f. 
Philol.  rXLI.  l8i'o.  pp.  Gll-(;50). 


Hesiod  and  the  Hesiodie  Poetry  65 

Omitting  as  doubtful  what  seems  most  uncertain,  we  shall  confine 
ourselves  to  a  few  general  statements  in  themselves  highly  probable. 
These  will  suffice  to  give  a  fair  idea  of  the  way  in  which  the  Hesi- 
odie poetry  was  formed,  and  of  its  character  and  worth. 

For  the  first  element  of  the  agglomeration,  the  author  seems  to 
have  obtained  his  theme  from  the  judicial  process  above  mentioned. 
With  the  later  additions  belonging  to  it,  this  included  the  first  three 
hundred  and  eighty  verses  of  the  present  poem.  The  subject  treated 
is  neither  rural  labor  nor  favorable  and  unfavorable  days.  The 
poem  is  a  spirited  moral  sermon,  On  Justice.  There  is,  says  the  poet 
to  his  brother  Perses,  but  one  useful  and  proper  rivalry  among  men, 
that  of  toil.  Empty  quarrels  always  end  in  the  ruin  of  those  who 
participate  in  them.  Better  be  content  with  half  than  contentious 
for  the  whole.  Zeus,  avenging  himself  on  Prometheus  for  having  de- 
ceived him,  made  the  lot  of  men  hard,  full  of  vexations  and  illusions, 
and  surrounded  with  perilous  temptations.  The  golden  was  followed 
by  the  silver,  and  that  by  the  bronze  age  ;  next  came  the  age  of  heroes, 
and  finally  the  iron  age.  Man's  present  condition  is  one  of  suffering 
and  hard  labor ;  and  he  makes  it  still  worse  by  deceit,  violence,  and 
disregard  of  justice.  Aidos  and  Nemesis  have  almost  decided  to  quit 
the  earth.  The  mighty,  like  hunters  who  have  meshed  an  innocent 
sparrow  in  their  toils,  misuse  their  power  ;  but  good  faith  and  jus- 
tice, offended,  cry  aloud  for  vengeance,  and  Zeus  hears  them.  The 
just  he  loves  and  favors;  their  household  and  their  fields  shall 
prosper;  their  city  shall  dwell  in  peace.  But  the  unjust  he  smites 
with  dire  calamity.  Therefore  let  the  mighty  regard  justice ;  for 
the  eyes  of  Zeus  are  upon  them,  and  their  deeds  are  watched  by 
thirty  thousand  messengers,  immortal,  invisible,  who  hover  day  and 
night  above  the  earth.  Let  the  humble  work  without  seeking  to 
despoil  one  another.  And  thus  shall  they  find  all  the  honor  and 
good  fortune  allowed  to  their  condition. 

This  is  evidently  a  series  of  connected  ideas,  though  not  developed 
into  a  logical  demonstration  or  a  philosophic  argument.  They  take 
on  various  forms  in  turn  —  maxims,  allegories,  myths,  speeches,  de- 
scriptions, expositions  of  religious  or  moral  truths,  bits  of  counsel,  or 
prohibitions;  and,  being  rather  in  juxtaposition  than  in  intimate 
connection  with  each  other,  analogous  thoughts  not  belonging  to  the 
primitive  poem  have  one  by  one  found  their  place  in  it.  Neverthe- 
less, the  whole  is  not  incoherent.  Disregarding  certain  manifest 
additions,  one  can  see  unity  of  plan  and  ins])iration.  The  author  is 
taking  some  one  to  task  who,  wishing  to  grow  rich  by  fraud,  has 
wronged  him.  The  feeling  of  his  personal  injury  is  very  keen  ;  yet 
he  looks  beyond  his  private  wrong,  using  it  as  an  individual  case 


66  Greek  Literature 

from  which  to  deduce  general  precepts  connected  with  what  may  be 
called  a  law  of  humanity.  This  he  allows  us  to  formulate  in  two 
words,  "justice"  and  "labor." 

Such  is  the  first  great  element  of  the  agglomeration,  together  with 
its  additions.  The  second  is  a  poem  on  the  various  works  of  the 
field.     Including  several  additions,  it  extends  from  v.  381  to  v.  784. 

This  poem,  On  Works,  is  likewise  acTclressed  to  Hesiod's  brother 
Perses.  But,  as  we  have  seen,  it  seems  to  have  been  composed  later 
and  under  different  circumstances.  Perses  had  lost  his  fortune. 
Hesiod,  partly  appeased,  tells  him  how  to  proceed  in  managing  an 
estate.  The  works  of  the  field  formed  for  him  a  cycle,  beginning 
with  the  end  of  autumn  at  seed-time,  and  ending  a  year  later,  in  the 
following  autumn,  at  the  close  of  harvest.  Thus  the  seasons  pass 
before  us  in  their  order,  winter,  spring,  summer,  and  autumn.  To 
each  belong  certain  works  that  the  poet  enumerates ;  but,  as  some 
of  these  are  anticipated  by  others  in  earlier  seasons,  he  goes  freely, 
in  details,  beyond  the  portion  which  he  professes  to  be  treating. 
Hence  there  is  apparent  disorder,  though  without  alteration  of 
the  fundamental  plan.  Moreover,  digressions  abound.  All  that 
the  poet  meets  interests  him ;  he  speaks  at  length  about  instru- 
ments of  tillage  and  means  of  constructing  them,  domestic  economy, 
servants,  animals,  clothing,  food,  etc.  He  multiplies  bi,ts  of  advice 
drawn  from  experience,  and  traditional  or  personal  observations. 
Sometimes  he  gives  a  description.  Yet  it  is  always  the  cycle  of 
works  which  forms  the  plot  of  his  development.  Near  the  end 
of  this  poem,  there  is  a  special  treatment  of  navigation.  It  is 
difficult  to  say  whether  this  brief  portion  was  originally  distinct, 
or  constituted,  from  the  beginning,  a  natural  appendage  to  the  part 
on  gaining  a  subsistence  by  toil.  And  a  group  of  various  maxims  is 
found  to-day  just  after  the  chapter  on  navigation.  Most  of  them 
seem  to  have  nothing  in  common  with  the  primitive  poem  but  their 
didactic  character. 

The  third  and  last  element  of  the  agglomeration  is  a  calendar 
(^/xepat),  in  sixty  verses,  enumerating  and  classifying  the  days  of 
the  month  from  a  religious  point  of  view,  as  favorable  or  unfavor- 
able to  certain  enterprises.  It  has  very  little  connection  with 
rustic  life.  Tliere  is,  to  say  the  least,  doubt  as  to  whether  it 
belonged  originally  to  the  poem.  Evidently  the  complete  poem 
is  the  result  of  a  purely  artificial  grouping.  It  was  constituted, 
we  do  not  know  just  when,  but,  at  the  latest,  in  the  course  of  the 
fifth  century,  by  the  combination  of  several  poems,  of  which  at 
least  two  Avere  connected  with  Hesiod,  and  to  which  various 
compositions  have  been  added.      The  very  title  is  formed  by  the 


Hesiod  and  the  Hesiodic  Poetry  67 

arbitrary  union  of  two  titles  really  applicable  to  but  two  of  its 
parts. 

4.  The  Principal  Poet  of  the  Works.  His  Philosophy.  His  Poetic 
Merit.  His  Language.'  —  If  now,  from  this  whole,  we  take  away  all 
that  is  of  secondary  importance,  and  consider  only  the  principal 
parts,  the  two  poems.  On  Justice  and  On  Wo7-ks,  we  shall  see  in  them 
a  work  of  genius,  and  in  the*poet  a  man  well  worthy  of  character- 
ization. 

The  background  of  his  poetry  is  a  compound  of  bitter  complaint 
and  energy.  He  regards  the  world  as  gloomy  and  human  society  as 
bad.  The  gods  have  made  the  lot  of  mortals  hard,  subjecting  them 
to  toil,  danger,  sickness,  and  death.  Crowning  all,  they  have  sur- 
rounded them  with  temptations  that  cannot  be  resisted.  This 
wretched  condition  is  daily  made  worse  by  the  follies  of  mankind. 
Men  are  selfish,  greedy  of  pleasure,  mutually  hostile,  always  ready 
to  deceive  one  another  and  to  misuse  their  power.  They  regard 
neither  law,  the  family,  nor  the  gods.  If  all  this  be  taken  literally, 
one  must  admit  that  Hesiod  lived  in  an  atmosphere  of  absolute 
barbarism.  But  it  is  a  poet,  and  that  an  irritated  one,  with  whom 
we  have  to  do.  His  bitter  pessimism  is  especially  evident  in  the 
poem,  On  Justice,  composed,  as  it  was,  at  the  time  when  he  thought 
himself  injured  and  despoiled.  His  keen  sensibility  was  excited  by 
the  sense  of  personal  grievance.  Anger,  combined  with  lofty  senti- 
ment, gives  him  an  eloquence  naturally  hyperbolic.  Moreover,  his 
own  ideas  exalt  and  even  carry  him  away.  Image  calls  up  image, 
and  old,  gloomy,  desolating  myths  form  the  very  web  of  his  discourse. 
These  antique  traditions,  once  adopted,  impose  themselves  on  him, 
overmaster  him,  shape  his  thought,  and  dictate  conclusions  which  he 
can  neither  moderate  nor  soften.  A  certain  natural  severity,  in- 
creased by  passion  or  the  humor  of  the  moment,  makes  him  take 
delight  in  short,  striking  formulas,  which  present  only  one  aspect  of 
things  and  make  tliem  so  much  the  more  startling :  — 

"The  earth  is  full  of  ills;  the  sea  is  fraught  with  them." 

And  he  believes  this  when  he  says  it.  A  painful  and  even 
violent  sincerity,  served  by  a  strong  imagination,  gives  to  his  com- 
plaint and  his  claims  a  tone  that  never  can  be  forgotten. 

Yet  really  he  is  by  no  means  reduced  to  despair.  The  poem, 
though  showing  in  such  baldness  the  reign  of  violence  and  fraud, 

1  Consult  J.  Oirard.  Du  Sentiment  relirjieux  en  Grece,  chap.  Ill ;  J.  A.  Ililtl. 
Le  Pessiynisni/'  moral  et  nJii/ienz  chez  Ilmnere  el  Ilesiode  (Rev.  de  Vhist.  dcs 
Itelui.,  vol.  XIV,  p.  1()8  If.";  vol.  XV%  p.  22  f.);  A.  Hzach,  Der  Dialekt  d>'s 
Besiudos  {Jbb.  f.  cl.  Fhilol.,  Suppl.  Bd.  VIII,  1876,  pp.  353-460). 


J 


68  Greek  Literature 

contains,  however,  the  secret  assertion  of  a  profound  faith  in  the 
ultimate  victory  of  right.  The  poet  believes  that  the  gods  are 
enemies  of  moral  evil,  that  their  eyes  behold  and  see  all  that  passes 
here  below,  and  that  in  the  end  punishment  and  reward  will  be 
dispensed,  bringing  prosperity  to  some  and  ruin  to  others.  We  are 
surprised  to  see  such  absolute  confidence  after  he  has  complained  of 
everything.  Just  now,  all  seemed  abominable ;  yet  at  present,  all 
ends  in  good.  But  these  brusque  movements  of  thought,  though 
contradictory,  are  characteristic  of  a  naive  and  vigorous  spirit, 
which  philosophy  has  not  yet  dominated.  Each  of  the  ideas,  in 
turn,  wholly  occupies  him,  permitting  neither  attenuation  nor  re- 
serve. At  bottom,  moral  force  is  ruling  in  him.  Already  apparent 
in  the  poem,  On  Justice^  quite  gets  the  upper  hand  in  the  poem.  On 
Works.  Hesiod  still  has  a  profound  sentiment  of  man's  inherent 
weakness,  he  knows  well  that  the  life  of  the  peasant  is  rough,  fatigu- 
ing, subject  to  a  thousand  pitfalls ;  but  he  knows,  too,  that  toil,  order, 
economy,  and  good  conduct  are  certain  assurances  of  success.  All 
his  precepts  indicate  firm  confidence  in  the  worth  of  intelligent  and 
persevering  activity.  He  leaves  no  doubt  that  the  gods  favor  their 
worshippers  —  provided,  of  course,  that  in  turn,  the  latter  perform 
the  duties  required  of  them.  No  longer  compelled,  in  this  poem,  to 
contend  against  violence  and  falsity,  his  thought  is  no  longer 
dominated  by  passion.  As  the  pronounced  adversary  of  idleness 
and  carelessness,  while  making  war  on  these,  he  reveals  his  true 
philosophy.  This  is  chiefly  one  of  courage  and  faith.  For  centu- 
ries Greece  took  from  him  lessons  of  activity,  prudence,  piety,  and 
moral  energy. 

This  stanch  doctrine,  based  withal  on  experience  and  good  sense, 
is  maintained  with  remarkable  poetic  power.  The  author  possesses 
force,  a  vein  of  satire,  clearness  of  imagination,  and  grace,  some- 
times piquant,  sometimes  spirited  and  ingenious.  In  complaint  or 
invective,  if  he  lacks  abundance  of  words,  he  atones  for  it  by  bit- 
terness and  harsh  gravity,  liveliness  of  emotion  and  religious  tone. 
Actually  suffering  from  the  evils  he  depicts,  he  is  in  some  respects 
one  of  the  greatest  poets  of  human  misery.  He  has  expressed  its 
sentiments  in  verses  that  are  lamentations  and  cries  of  pain. 
Though  he  speaks  thus  with  all  his  heart,  he  has  a  natural  tone  of 
authority,  as  if  feeling  himself  the  interpreter  of  majestic  truths. 
The  decided  turn  of  his  sayings  makes  them  seem  like  oracles.  Xo 
profane  writer  has  made  men  feel  more  keenly  the  presence  of  an 
inspiration  which  he  himself  regarded  as  divine  and  which  Greece 
long  accepted  as  being  such. 

These  are  the  main  qualities  that  give  him  grandeur.     He  has 


Hesiod  and  the  Hesiodic  Poetry  69 

lesser  ones,  but  they  do  not  make  him  original.  Like  the  Ionic 
bards,  he  is  a  story-teller  by  natural  endowment,  though  with  slightly 
different  traits.  He  has  their  adroit  frankness,  their  quick  and  clear 
imagination,  their  acumen,  and  their  dramatic  feeling.  He  is  their 
inferior  in  ease  of  eloquence,  in  variety  of  invention,  in  fancy ;  but 
he  redeems  himself  by  the  quantity  of  sense  he  puts  into  his  work. 
In  brief,  he  makes  us  see  and  hear  Zeus  and  Prometheus  dealing 
with  each  other,  each  seeking  to  deceive  the  other ;  one  would  think 
them  a  rich  merchant  and  a  priest  of  Cyme  disputing  over  the  value 
of  a  sacrifice.  To  create  Pandora,  he  naively  assembles  the  gods ; 
he  shows  them  to  us  plotting,  each  in  turn,  with  their  gifts  carefully 
chosen.  These  he  does  not  describe ;  he  merely  indicates  them  with 
a  proper  term.  He  puts  before  us  the  living  image  of  the  woman,  as 
he  conceives  her,  charming  and  dangerous,  seductive  alike  by  her 
acumen  and  her  beauty,  voluptuous  and  perfidious.  When  enumer-  j 
ating  the  ages  of  the  world,  he  characterizes  them  briefly,  one  after 
another;  and  each  of  his  descriptions  attracts  us  and  makes  us  think. 
With  a  few  verses  he  can  put  into  one  description  a  dream  of 
lost  happiness,  into  another  a  gloomy  yet  attractive  sadness,  into  a 
third  a  quick  vision  of  terror,  and  into  a  fourth  a  wonderful  picture 
of  the  great  adventures  of  the  epic  period.  He  retains  his  lively 
and  pungent  style  even  in  allegory.  When  he  depicts  the  two 
Strifes,  Jealousy  and  Emulation,  the  sketches  are  so  real  that  we  - 
see  summarized  in  bold  relief  something  of  the  life  of  human  beings. 
But  his  piquant  grace  is  seen  especially  in  the  form  of  his  tech- 
nical and  moral  precepts.  For  the  simplest  matters,  even  those 
somewhat  trivial,  he  has  original  and  ingenious  forms  of  expression. 
In  his  counsels  all  is  animated  and  precise,  all  speaks  to  the  imagi- 
nation. He  sees  and  portrays  vividly  the  things  he  treats.  His  every 
recommendation  frames  itself  spontaneously  like  a  picture  :  - — 

"  Pray  to  Zeus  of  the  lower  Avorld,  pray  to  holy  Demeter,  asking 
tliat  at  the  end  of  thy  toil  the  sacred  harvest  may  fill  thy  garner; 
do  so  wlien  thou  beginnest  thy  labor,  as  soon  as,  putting  thy  hand 
to  the  plough,  thou  touchest  the  back  of  the  oxen  that  draw  at 
the  oaken  beam.  Just  behind  thee,  let  a  servant,  equipped  with  a 
mattock,  raise  trouble  for  the  birds  by  covering  the  seed.  Toil  is 
a  great  blessing  to  mortals;  but  sloth  is  a  great  curse."  —  Worhs, 
vv.  46r)-472. 

Sueli  precepts  could  be  easily  illustrated,  owing  to  the  nature  of 
liis  plan.  He  brings  men  into  view  and  groups  them,  noting  their 
attitudes  and  motions,  yet  not  forgetting  tlieir  sentiments.  Thus 
the  most  technical  reflections  acquire  life.  The  poet  may  wish  to 
say  that  sluggish  toil  will  bring  but  a  meagre  harvest :  he  sees  the 


70  Ghreek  Literature 

harvester  deceived ;  he  shows  us  in  three  or  four  strokes  the  f ruitless- 
ness  of  his  toil ;  he  presents  him  disappointed  and  contemptuous :  — 

"  If  thou  wait  till  the  solstice  to  till  the  divine  earth,  seated  upon 
the  earth,  thou  shalt  reap  spare  heads  of  wheat ;  covered  with  dust, 
thou  shalt  bind  thy  petty  sheaves,  sad  at  heart,  and  shalt  carry  all 
thy  grain  in  a  basket.  Few  shall  be  they  who  praise  thee."  — 
Works,  vv.  479-482. 

The  moralist  in  the  poet  suggests  at  every  instant  traits  of  excel- 
lence. He  reads  the  heart  of  his  ploughman ;  he  notes  and  shares 
his  emotions.  But  he  has  more  general  observations ;  for  he  ponders 
everything.  His  experience  of  life,  though  not  that  of  a  philosopher, 
is  already  well  turned  to  profit :  — 

"  Place  behind  thy  oxen  a  man  of  forty  years,  interested  in  his 
task,  who  will  plough  a  straight  furrow,  not  seeking  to  look  at  his 
companions,  but  constantly  attending  to  his  work.  A  younger  man 
will  be  less  efficient  in  scattering  the  seed  and  destroying  thistles. 
The  young  man  thinks  only  of  rejoining  his  companions.  His  inter- 
est is  in  the  air."  —  Works,  vv.  441-447. 

We  may  add  that  even  where  there  is  no  need  of  observation  or 
of  images,  he  still  knows  how  to  win  acceptation  for  his  precepts  by 
exquisite  expression,  designedly  enigmatic  turn,  and  striking  cast  of 
thought.     But  these  are  petty  details,  on  which  we  need  not  insist. 

Beside  moral  and  technical  lessons,  nature  cannot  fail  to  have 
great  importance  in  a  rustic  poem.  Hesiod  has  a  sentiment  very 
much  his  own,  which  to  modern  readers  may  appear  somewhat 
harsh ;  yet  it  possesses  gracious,  delicate  charm.  He  does  not 
dream,  he  has  no  flights  of  fancy.  Nature,  as  he  conceives  it, 
presents  but  few  great  spectacles;  and  he  quite  disregards  those 
that  she  does  offer,  such  as  mountains,  forests,  great,  peaceful  lakes, 
torrents,  and  shores  beaten  by  the  waves.  His  horizon  is  chosen  in 
the  plain,  or  possibly  on  the  slope.  He  points  out  the  fields  that 
are  tilled  and  harvested,  the  small,  rustic  domain,  the  adjoining 
vineyard ;  and,  in  this  horizon  he  never  lets  his  mind  study  out  the 
mysterious,  nor  delight  itself  in  the  secret  harmonies  so  ready  to 
establish  themselves  between  the  aspects  of  nature  and  human  senti- 
ment. Engrossed  with  toil  from  a  ])ractical  standpoint,  he  loves  the 
earth,  not  for  its  beauty,  but  for  its  fertility  ;  and  if  he  appreciates 
tlie  field  highly,  he  does  so  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  harvest 
alone.  Tliis  does  not  seem  truly  poetic ;  and  yet  there  is  in  him  the 
sincere  poesy  of  nature.  It  is  the  poesy  of  the  peasant,  yet  it  is 
idealized.  It  is  made  up  of  trivial  impressions  and  observations, 
vivid,  clear,  exact ;  and  with  them  is  mingled  the  sentiment  of 
hardship  or  that  of  well-being.     These  observations  touch  all  that 


Hesiod  and  the  Hesiodic  Poetry  71 

one  sees  and  hears,  all  that  one  notices  out  of  doors  in  summer  or 
winter.  Hesiod  understands  and  notes  picturesquely  the  tokens 
of  each  approaching  season.  He  has  seen  the  Pleiads  rise  and  set 
in  their  time,  he  has  heard  the  cry  of  the  birds  of  passage  betoken- 
ing spring  or  winter.  Summer,  for  him,  is  when  the  thistle  blos- 
soms. He  has  felt  the  parching  heat  of  dog-days  and  the  penetrating 
chill  of  Thracian  winds.  The  picturesque  reality  of  certain  details 
of  his  daily  experience  is  charming  :  — 

"  Should  mishap  make  thee  tardy  in  thy  labor,  thou  mayst  per- 
chance still  amend  thy  lot.  When  the  cuckoo  is  heard  chanting 
among  the  oak  leaves,  delighting  from  far  the  men  at  work  on  the 
vast  earth,  tell  then  thy  wish  to  Zeus  that  he  cause  rain  on  the 
third  day,  and  that  he  cease  only  when  the  water  covers  the  ox's 
hoof ;  for  so  the  laborer  behind  the  time  may  yet  surpass  his  neigh- 
bor." —  TrorArs,  vv.  485-490. 

Such  traits  abound  in  the  Works.  Nature  is  shown  in  her  petty 
details,  it  is  true;  but  the  observations  of  the  poet  are  so  well 
chosen,  so  just,  so  sincere,  that  it  is  impossible  not  to  be  pleased  by 
them.  Behind  his  hasty  sketches  there  is  always  an  interesting 
sentiment,  that  of  a  man  for  whom  rain  and  fair  weather  are  notable 
events,  who  suffers  from  cold  and  heat,  who  looks  to  the  sun  for  his 
daily  bread,  who  labors  strenuously  behind  the  plough,  and  rests 
comfortably  in  the  shade,  refreshed  with  drink,  when  he  allows 
himself  a  moment  of  repose. 

And  now  a  word  concerning  the  diction  of  the  poem.  The  lan- 
guage, as  we  have  it,  is  a  natural  use  of  the  Ionic  epic  dialect,  with 
an  admixture  of  occasional  forms  borrowed  from  the  dialects  of 
central  Greece.  In  our  day  some  have  supposed  that  this  state  of 
things  resulted  from  an  artificial  transposition,  a  deliberate  tran- 
scription from  primitive  Boeotian  or  Locrian  into  Ionic.  But  when 
one  tries  to  restore  the  primitive  text  from  this  point  of  view,  one 
finds  that  it  will  not  endure  the  operation.  Only  by  violence  can 
it  be  turned  back  into  the  pretended  original  form.  Therefore  the 
hypothesis  in  question  seems  inacceptable.  Furthermore,  it  is 
uncalled  for,  since  the  admixture  we  have  noted  is  already  well 
enoujjjh  explained. 

5.  Other  Moral  and  Technical  Poems.'  —  There  is  no  doubt  that  a 
rather  large  number  of  poems,  more  or  less  analogous  to  those  we 
have  just  been  discussing,  were  produced  in  continental  Greece  from 
the  eighth  century  till  the  end  of  the  sixth.  We  know  only  a  small 
number  of  them,  even  by  title,  though  possibly  many  others  existed. 

1  Consult  G.  Marckscheffel,  Ilesiodi  Fragmenta,  Leipsic,  1840 ;  Kinkel, 
Poetarum  Epicorum  Frarjmenta,  I. 


72  Greek  Literatin^e 

Several  of  them  have  been  attributed  to  Hesiod.  It  is  impossible 
to-day  to  decide,  in  every  case,  whether  this  assignment  is  right  or 
wrong.  All  we  can  say  is  that  in  remote  antiquity  there  is  very 
little  evidence  in  its  favor;  for  a  goodly  number  of  poets,  after 
Hesiod,  devoted  themselves  to  didactic  composition. 

The  most  celebrated  of  these  poems  are:  the  Great  Works 
(McyoAa  'Epya),  of  which  we  have  a  few  fragments  and  whose  vague 
title  has  been  variously  interpreted ;  the  Divination  h>/  Birds 
{'OpvtOofjLavTuu),  wholly  lost ;  the  Astronohiy,  rei)resented  to-day  by 
some  twenty  fragments;  and  the  Precepts  of  Chiron  (Xupwvo<i 
'YTroOrJKaL),  a  group  of  moral  maxims  that  the  centaur  Chiron  was 
thought  to  have  formulated  for  the  young  Achilles.  The  last-named 
poem  does  not  seem  very  ancient,  for  it  discusses  the  age  when 
children  ought  to  learn  to  read.  In  all  there  are  eight  verses  of  it. 
But  none  of  these  works,  in  their  present  condition,  is  worthy  to 
occupy  our  attention  long. 

Disregarding,  then,  the  first  type  of  didactic  poetry,  which  aims 
to  give  moral  or  technical  instruction,  we  may  now  turn  to  the 
second,  which  has  a  closer  resemblance  to  history. 

6.  The  Theogony}  Subject  of  the  Poem.  Its  Unity  and  Composition. 
The  Author  and  the  Date.  — The  poem  that  marks  the  appearance  of 
this  semi-historic  poetry  in  literature  is  the  Tlieogony  attributed  to 
Hesiod. 

The  aim  of  the  Tlieogony  is  to  give  a  methodic  exposition  of  the 
interrelations  of  the  gods  from  the  origin  of  matter  to  the  final  con- 
stitution of  the  celestial  world.  The  author  does  not  invent,  nor 
wish  to  invent.  He  collected  traditions  that  were  divergent,  con- 
fused, and  sometimes  contradictory.  These  he  harmonized  and 
reconciled,  fusing  them  into  one  great  whole.  His  evident  intention 
was  to  give  a  genealogical  account  of  all  the  gods  of  the  Greek 
world  so  as  to  fix  their  mutual  relations.  Accordingly  he  mounts 
above  the  level  of  a  mere  canton  or  region  in  the  desire  to  construct 
a  really  Hellenic  pantheon.  And  such  is  his  product.  His  inspira- 
tion is  drawn  from  a  deep  ])iety  and  a  keen  historical  sense.  AVhile 
hoiioriiiL:  the  gods,  he  succeeds  in  i)er])etuating  the  most  essential 
traditions  in  the  history  of  his  race.  To  be  sure,  we  cannot  say  that 
he  was  tlie  first  to  make  such  an  atteni[it.  We  are  rather  inclined 
to  regard  tlie  TJii'oijony  as  the  }n'oduct  or  result  of  a  series  of  less 
successful  efforts.     At  any  rate,  its  appearance  overshadows  all  that 

'  Fi'f  a  geiif-ral  bibliouTapliy  of  lle-siod's  work,  see  ]^p.  62  and  04.  On  the 
Thfioannij  in  iiarticular,  (iuigniaut.  De  la  Tfn'm/mue  0.' Ilhiixlc.  Paris.  1S:;.3  ; 
Sclioniann.  <>j,usi')i.hi  Arinhnu'ru.  II.  Hcrlin.  1857  ;  F.  G.  AVelrkf-r.  T/n-o'/oida, 
Elberfeld.  iNi.J  ;  Flacli.  (ilnssrn  uml  Srh'iliin  znr  hi-.^imlisrhi  u  T/ieo'joxi''  with 
prologomL-na.  Lt-ip.sic.  IbTO  :  G.  Hermann,  Opuscida.  VIII.  IhTT. 


Hesiod  and  the  Hesiodic  Poetry  73 

had  gope  before,  because  it  surpassed  all  the  rest  in  merit  and  so 
rendered  them  useless.  It  alone  represents  for  us  the  great  effort 
of  Greek  genius  before  the  coming  of  history  or  philosophy  to  con- 
dense and  fix  scattered  and  divergent  mythological  traditions. 

The  composition  of  the  poem  shows  the  difficulty  of  the  task  and 
the  intensity  of  the  eifort  necessary.  In  its  present  state  it  has 
somewhat  more  than  a  thousand  verses.  One  cannot  doubt  that  it 
was  interpolated  and  supplemented  in  certain  parts.  But  beneath 
these  superficial  changes,  which,  after  all,  are  matters  of  discussion, 
one  can  but  recognize  an  underlying  unity.  Xiiis  is  due  to  the 
method  with  which  the  plan  is  conceived  and  followed,  and  to  the 
spirit  that  animates  the  whole.  The  method  consists  essentially  in 
following  the  order  of  generations.  When  a  single  generation  in- 
cludes several  brothers  and  sisters,  the  poet,  after  naming  them, 
gives  the  lineage  of  each  in  succession,  following  the  order  of  pri- 
mogeniture. The  exceptions  are  rare  and  easy  to  explain.  The 
spirit  of  the  work  is  scientific  and  philosophic,  in  so  far  as  these 
expressions  can  be  applied  to  so  remote  an  age ;  and  it  is  also  Hel- 
lenic. It  is  scientific  in  that  the  poet  is  given  above  all  to  exactness 
and  precision  and  attaches  but  little  importance  to  the  narratives  ; 
philosophic  in  that,  with  all  his  science,  he  displays,  through  the 
succession  of  gods,  the  idea  of  a  development  of  the  world  into  har- 
mony and  beauty  ;  and  Hellenic  in  that  he  never  limits  himself  to 
local  cults,  but  represents  all  the  divinities  as  universal. 

Let  us  take  a  cursory  glance  at  the  development  of  the  plot.  The 
Theo'jo)!!/  begins  with  a  prologue  of  more  than  a  hundred  verses, 
apparently  formed  of  elements  brovight  together  gradually  and  in 
some  disorder.  To  disentangle  the  skein  properly  may  not  be  pos- 
sible to-day.  Yet  if  we  select  the  elements  that  seem  most  ancient 
(vv.  18,  22-.34,  104-115),  we  obtain,  by  recombining  them,  a  logical 
and  interesting  account.  The  poet  invokes  the  Muses  of  Helicon 
who  formerly  inspired  Plesiod,  and  says  that  he  himself  has  likewise 
received  from  them  a  mission  ;  instead  of  fictions  he  will  set  forth 
verities.  They  have  commissioned  him  to  put  into  verse  the 
generations  of  the  gods;  and  this  shall  be  his  task. 

He  commences  with  the  origin  of  things.  In  the  beginning,  he 
says,  there  was  only  chaos,  by  which  he  means  the  void.  Then  was 
])r()duced  G;ea  (Earth),  resting  upon  Tartarus,  which  lay  stretched 
beneath  it.  Witli  (Ja\a  was  also  produced  Kros,  the  most  beautiful 
of  immortals.  This  signifies  ])lainly  that  from  the  earth  as  the 
sole  primordial  existence  came  forth  successively  all  the  gods;  and 
that  their  successive  generations  were  produced  by  tlic  power  of 
Eros,  the  god  of  conjugal  affection.     From  chaos  sprang  directly  two 


74  Greek  Literature 

beings  —  Erebus,  a  dim  obscurity,  and  Night,  obscurity  somewhat 
localized.  From  Erebus  and  Night  sprang  Ether,  dim  daylight,  and 
Day,  light  localized.  Impalpable  and  unsubstantial,  these  beings 
might  all  issue  from  the  void  which  the  poet  has  called  chaos. 
From  Gaea  sprang  directly  Uranus,  the  sky,  the  visible,  colored  vault 
conceived  as  a  sort  of  superstructure  over  the  earth.  She  produced 
also  the  mountains  and  Pontus,  the  deep.  This,  as  one  readily  sees, 
is  an  elementary  cosmogony,  a  sort  of  genesis,  a  precursor  of  the 
Tlieogony  proper. 

The  latter  begins  with  the  union  of  Ga^a  and  Uranus.  The  off- 
spring of  this  union  were  the  Titans,  the  Cyclopes,  and  the  hundred- 
handed  giants,  Cottus,  Briareus,  and  Gyes,  who  seem  to  represent 
the  violence  of  the  winds.  The  group  of  brothers  all  have  some- 
thing in  common ;  all  are  symbolic  of  the  rude  forces  of  nature. 
Cronus,  the  youngest  of  the  Titans,  at  the  instigation  of  his  mother, 
Gtea,  cast  a  net  to  catch  his  father,  Uranus,  and  then  wounded  him. 
From  the  blood  of  Uranus  sprang  the  Erinnyes,  the  giants,  the 
nymphs,  and  finally  Aphrodite. 

For  the  purposes  of  the  poet,  the  first  generation  sprung  from 
Gsea  is  thus  exhausted.  Then  come  the  families  of  the  Titans  in 
the  order  of  primogeniture.  It  is  in  this  part  of  the  poem  that  the 
enumerations  are  longest  and  most  intricate.  Alliances  between  the 
different  families  compel  the  poet  to  speak  of  them  sometimes  in 
common.  Yet  he  follows  his  plan  as  much  as  possible.  The  descen- 
dants of  Cronus  come  last,  because  Cronus  is  the  youngest  of  the 
Titans.  They  interest  us  most,  inasmuch  as,  with  them,  we  enter 
upon  a  mythology  that  is  almost  historic.  The  sons  of  Cronus  are, 
in  f;ict,  Hades,  Poseidon,  and  Zeus.  We  learn  how  Zeus,  when  his 
father  wished  to  swallow  him,  was  saved  by  his  mother  Rhea,  and 
grew  up  to  deliver  his  brothers.  Tlien  we  see  him  master  of 
Olympus.  The  overthrow  of  Cronus,  however,  has  nowhere  been 
recounted. 

Among  tlie  families  of  the  Titans  the  poet  has  reserved  tliat  of 
lapetus.  He  now  returns  to  it.  Tlie  sons  of  lapetus  are  l*rome- 
thevis,  Epimetheus,  and  Atlas.  In  connection  witli  them  we  are  told 
tlie  enterprise  of  Prometheus,  which  Zeus  thwarted ;  and  the  crea- 
tion of  Pandora  —  a  story  showing  us  humanity  vanquished  and 
submissive. 

AVith  no  transition  we  })ass  then  to  the  war  of  the  Titans  against 
the  g(KLs.  This  lack  of  continuity  may  be  due  to  a  lacuna.  As  for 
the  war  itself,  that  is  necessarily  mentioned  here ;  for  it  is  the  defeat 
of  the  Titans  which  explains  why  their  families  suddenly  come  to 
an  end,  leaving  free  scope  henceforth  to  the  descendants  of  Cronus. 


Hesiod  and  the  Hesiodic  Poetry  75 

The  surprising  thing  is  the  importance  given  to  the  war.  Already 
we  find  the  story  of  Pandora  distinct  from  the  genealogic  character 
of  the  poem  as  a  whole.  The  tale  of  the  combat  of  Zeus  and  the 
Titans  has  much  more  this  episodic  character,  even  if  regarded  as 
a  probable  addition.  No  doubt,  once  freed  from  the  long  nomencla- 
tures of  the  beginning,  the  poet  was  pleased  to  give  to  this  later 
portion  of  his  work  more  of  life  and  elegance.  The  vanquished 
Titans  were  hurled  into  Tartarus;  and  this  account  furnishes  the 
poet  occasion  for  a  series  of  descriptions,  of  which  only  a  small  part 
seem  primitive. 

Gaea,  the  mother  of  the  Titans,  to  avenge  her  sons,  bears  a 
monster,  Typhosus,  who  renews  the  struggle  against  Zeus.  Here 
there  is  another  and  final  description.  Typhceus  is  plunged  into 
Tartarus ;  and  from  him  spring  destroying  and  devastating  winds. 
Having  vanquished  him,  Zeus  is  undisputed  master  of  Olympus,  and 
shares  the  divine  power  with  his  brothers. 

The  poem  ends  with  an  account  of  the  amours  of  Zeus  and  other 
Olympic  deities,  with  goddesses  and  mortal  women.  The  lines  of 
Olympic  descent  end,  accordingly,  with  the  heroes,  and  there  meet 
the  legends  of  Homeric  poetry. 

One  can  see  from  this  outline  that  there  is  a  logical  purpose 
running  through  the  great  work,  and  that  its  plan  must  have  been 
formed  by  a  single  mind.  The  original  unity,  apart  from  the  addi- 
tions, must  therefore  be  recognized  and  acknowledged.  We  are  at 
once  in  the  presence  of  an  author  whose  personality  it  would  be 
interesting  to  understand.  Unfortunately,  it  is  no  more  apparent 
in  this  poem  than  in  the  Works.  The  poet  here  performs  the  func- 
tion of  an  interpreter  of  traditions  ;  he  has  nothing  to  say  of  himself, 
and  tells  us  nothing  except  in  the  prologue  (vv.  22-34).  This  unique 
passage,  rightly  interpreted,  indicates  that  he  is  not  Hesiod,  but 
that  his  date  is  later.  He  is  an  admirer  of  Hesiod,  for  he  also 
receives  his  inspiration  from  the  Muses  of  Helicon,  and  seems  like- 
wise to  address  a  rustic  public ;  but  he  differs  in  respect  to  his  voca- 
tion, which  is  to  relate  the  past,  and  he  differs  from  the  Homeric 
bards  in  that  he  cultivates  truth  instead  of  fiction.  All  this  denotes 
a  poet  conscious  of  his  purpose,  one  who  knows  the  importance  of 
his  mission  and  feels  its  force.    That  is  about  all  we  can  say  of  him. 

The  time  in  which  he  lived  can  be  determined  only  approximately. 
He  does  not  seem  much  later  than  Hesiod,  as  Hesiod  is  the  only 
poet  in  the  region  of  Mount  Helicon  whom  he  knows.  His  story  of 
the  battle  between  Zeus  and  the  Titans  gives  the  impression  of  a 
first  attempt  to  handle  the  subject.  Eumelus  of  Corinth  composed 
a  Titanomachy,  as  we  shall  see  later,  in  the  second  half  of  the  eighth 


76  Greek  Literature 

century.  If  his  poem  had  been  already  known,  doubtless  the  author 
of  the  Tlieogony  —  supposing  that  he  had  decided  to  relate  in  the 
form  of  an  episode  what  already  existed  as  a  poem  —  would  have 
brought  into  fuller  relief  certain  of  the  personages  and  scenes  of 
the  earlier  work.  We  must  note  also  that,  though  Dionysus  is  hur- 
riedly mentioned  at  the  end  of  the  poem  (w.  941-942,  947-949),  the 
legend  about  him  does  not  yet  seem  to  have  been  widely  current. 
These  observations  hardlj'  allow  us  to  suppose  that  the  author  lived 
after  the  middle  of  the  eighth  century,  or,  we  may  say,  after  the 
beginning  of  the  Olympiads. 

7.  Merit  of  the  Theogony.  Its  Diction.^  —  A  poem  largely  made 
up  of  nomenclatures  can  have  literary  merit  of  a  special  kind  only. 
The  Theogony  must  have  pleased  its  contemporaries  above  all  by  its 
composition.  It  offered,  under  a  form  relatively  short  and  well 
arranged,  a  complete  history  of  the  creation  of  the  world.  Thus 
presented,  this  was  easy  to  grasp  at  a  glance.  i\Ien  had  the  pleas- 
ure of  seeing  themselves  readily  reflected  in  it.  Then,  though  it 
did  not  clearly  set  forth  an  idea  of  progress,  it  suggested  such  an 
evolution.  Men  seemed  to  see,  in  the  successive  generations  of 
diviue  beings,  something  else  than  hazard  and  confusion.  They 
passed  from  nothing  to  existence,  from  violent  force  to  better-regu- 
lated energy,  to  beauty  from  monstrosity,  to  light  from  primitive 
darkness.  This  was  like  an  act  of  intelligence,  and  the  dimly  ap- 
parent act  gave  to  the  series  of  enumerations  a  sort  of  dramatic 
interest. 

^Foreover,  in  matters  of  detail  these  very  nomenclatures  did  not 
lack  character.  The  poet,  in  grouping  his  divinities,  wa.s  able  to  give 
to  most  of  the  families  he  named  a  striking  and  distinct  aspect. 
Even  his  choice  of  names  and  epithets,  his  arrangement  of  conso- 
nants, his  few  brief  indications,  sufficed  for  that.  To  the  charming 
group  of  the  Xereids,  he  opposed  the  horrible  group  of  the  children 
of  Pliorcys.  The  second  child  of  Xiglit  has  a  peculiar  interest  on 
account  of  its  symbolic  value.  The  progeny  of  Echidna  and  Ty])hon 
terrifies  the  imagination.  This  whole  mythology,  in  short,  was 
vivid  and  lifelike  in  its  infinite  variety.  The  author  had  not  evoked 
it  unimaginatively ;  he  had  had  a  real  vision  :  liis  emotion  had  been 
variously  stirred  l)y  it ;  and  he  had  communicated  tliat  emotion  to 
his  ])ublic. 

It  must  be  said,  too.  that  here  and  there  on  this  basis  of  nomen- 
clature, detaclied  episodes  break  the  moTiotony  in  a  pleasing  way. 
The  poet's  sense  of  })ropriety  had  distribnted  them  nicely,  and  prop- 

'  Consnlt  -T.  Cliranl.  Si-ntimoU.  rrliai'u.i-  (n  (in'<'c.  as  above  ;  A.  Kzach, 
Drr  Dinhktdra  Ihsio^h,..,  (.fl,h.f.d.  FhUoL.^upiA.  lid.  VIII,  1870,  303  .S77.). 


Hesiod  and  the  Hesiodic  Poetry  11 

erly  regulated  their  length.  Somewhat  rare  in  the  beginning,  they 
become  more  frequent  and  more  extensive  as  one  proceeds.  We 
have  the  conspiracy  of  Gaea  and  her  sons  against  Cronus,  the  story 
of  the  sons  of  lapetus,  the  creation  of  Pandora,  the  Titauomachy, 
the  description  of  Tartarus,  and  the  strife  between  Zeus  and 
Typhosus.  Antique  simplicity  is  joined  with  grandeur  of  imagina- 
tion. The  picture  of  the  combat  of  Zeus  against  the  Titans,  a 
struggle  which  shook  the  universe,  is  related  in  the  middle  of  the 
work,  with  a  spirit  comparable  only  to  that  in  the  Homeric  poems. 
The  charm  was  what  men  found  so  admirable,  even  while  the  poem 
instructed  them.  The  author  seemed  to  take  pleasure  ordinarily  in 
concealing  his  genius.  He  would  voluntarily  let  it  deal  with  petty 
matters,  and  then  suddenly  allow  it  to  burst  forth.  The  type  of 
composition  he  created  was  of  moderate  pretensions,  very  inferior  to 
the  great  epics,  inferior  even  to  the  very  personal  poetry  of  the 
Works ;  l)ut  in  this  type  he  showed  himself  an  artist,  and  at  times 
raised  his  work  to  the  dignity  of  a  masterpiece. 

The  diction  in  the  Tlieogony  shows  the  same  mixed  character  as 
that  in  the  Works.  On  the  whole,  it  is  Ionic,  imitative  of  that  in 
the  Homeric  epics ;  but,  as  in  the  Works,  one  feels  the  influence  of 
the  dialects  of  central  Greece.  Traces  of  the  Delphic  dialect  seem 
particularly  noticeable.  If  this  were  more  certain,  it  would  be  an 
interesting  indication,  tending  to  throw  some  light  on  the  origin  of 
this  curious  effort  at  systematizing  and  fixing  mythology,  l^ut  it 
would  really  be  premature  to  base  a  conjecture  of  any  importance 
on  indications  still  so  vague. 

'  8.  Other  Genealogical  Hesiodic  Poems.  The  Catalogues,  the  Eoiae. 
th%  /Egimius,  etc.  Detached  Episodes:  the  Shield  of  Heracles,  etc'  — 
The  Tlu'Ofjony  has  continued  to  be  the  chief  specimen  of  tliis  semi- 
historic  poetry,  just  as  it  was,  probably,  one  of  its  first  models. 
But  to  tlie  same  inspiration  is  due  a  great  number  of  other  ])oems 
that  seem,  in  general,  to  have  been  produced  a  little  later,  and  that 
were  likewise  early  attributed  to  Hesiod,  who  had  become  the  repre- 
sentative didactic  writer. 

The  most  important  of  these  poems  was  the  Catalogue  of  Women. 
We  have  only  fragments  of  it.  Whoever  was  the  author,  he  gave 
in  chronological  order  the  names  of  the  women  who  had  been  loved 
by  the  gods  and  who  had  given  birth  to  celebrated  heroes.  It  was, 
therefore,  a  sort  of  methodic  classification  of  the  great  heroic  fami- 
lies that  traced  their  lineage  to  divine  ancestors.  These  Co.t(ilo(jues 
formed,  as  it  were,  an  extension  of  the  Thcogony  into  human  life, 
and  through    this    extension  mythology   n)ade    its    transition    into 

^  General  Bibliography  of  lle.siod.  p.  CA. 


78  Greek  Literature 

history.  The  part  played  by  the  women  in  the  poem  was  not,  as  has 
sometimes  been  supposed,  due  to  local  custom.  It  ceased  to  be  petty 
the  moment  the  author  chose  to  mount  to  the  divine  origin  of  great 
families.  The  general  form  of  the  work,  as  far  as  we  can  judge 
from  its  fragments,  must  have  been  much  like  that  of  the  Theogony. 
Long  nomenclatures,  enlivened  by  interesting  epithets,  commen^ora- 
tions,  and  allusions,  and  diversified  from  time  to  time  by  descrip- 
tions or  episodic  narratives,  made  up  a  poem  that  would  please  from 
the  number  of  its  details  ;  but  the  poem  interested  its  hearers,  and 
later  its  readers,  especially  as  a  historic  document.  Here  were  the 
heroic  archives  of  Greece,  disentangled,  set  in  order,  methodically 
arranged  under  a  form  attractive  and  easy  to  remember.  Hence,  in 
later  days,  even  when  history  had  begun  to  attain  importance,  the 
Catalogues  were  still  regarded  as  one  of  the  most  ancient  and  pre- 
cious evidences  relative  to  the  origin  of  the  race.  It  is,  to  be  sure, 
no  longer  possible  to  give  the  poem  a  precise  date.  Yet,  in  the 
nature  of  things,  it  must  have  been  later  than  the  Tlieogony.  Vari- 
ous passages  confirm  this  conclusion,  such  as  the  transformation  of 
the  hero  Latinus,  who  is  no  longer,  as  in  the  Theogony  (v.  1013),  a 
son  of  Circe  and  apparently  childless,  but  a  grandson  of  Deucalion, 
a  brother  of  Graecus,  and  the  ancestor  of  the  Latins  (fr.  24). 
The  influence  of  the  Catalogues  can  certainly  be  seen  in  lyric 
poetry  as  early  as  the  end  of  the  seventh  century,  particularly  in 
Stesichorus  {Catalogues,  fr.  117).  We  may  suppose,  therefore, 
that  the  poem  was  composed  about  the  beginning  of  the  seventh 
century. 

Closely  connected  with  the  Catalogues  are  the  Eoicn  ('HoZat). 
When  these  various  poems  were  collected  into  volumes,  the  Eoice 
formed  the  fourth  book  of  the  Catalogues.  They  were,  in  fact,  a  very 
similar  enumeration.  The  poet  recounts  in  the  beginning  that  a 
certain  number  of  privileged  women  had  been  the  favorites  of  the 
gods  ;  and  he  passes  the  most  illustrious  of  them  in  review  in  a 
series  of  short  lays.  The  first  one  was  introduced  by  the  formula 
Such  as  (oiTj),  the  others  by  the  formula  Or  else  sucJi  as  (rj  oirf),  again 
and  again  repeated.  Thus  arose  the  strange  title,  which  was  given  to 
the  poem,  we  do  not  know  just  when.  Only  a  few  fragments  remain. 
The  most  important  one,  relating  to  Alcmena,  has  some  fifty  verses ; 
it  serves  to-day  as  a  prologue  to  the  Shield  of  Heracles. 

From  this  specimen  one  would  judge  that  the  poems  were  no 
more  truly  narrative  than  the  Catalogues.  The  author  of  the  later 
poem  did  not,  like  the  author  of  the  earlier  one,  aim  to  be  complete. 
He  had  preferred,  among  the  legends  relating  to  women,  those  that 
seemed  most  likely  to  interest ;  and  these  he  had   developed  more 


Hesiod  and  the  Hesiodic  Poetry  79 

amply.  There  is  good  reason  for  thinking  that  this  poem  was  com- 
posed shortly  after  the  appearance  of  the  Catalogues. 

The  ^gimius,  attributed  now  to  Hesiod,  now  to  Cercops  of  Mile- 
tus, who  is  placed  in  the  sixth  century,  derives  its  name  from  King 
iEgimius,  the  ancestor  and  first  legislator  of  the  Dorians.  Some 
fragments,  of  which  several  are  assigned,  though  only  hypotheti- 
cally,  to  this  poem,  do  not  enable  us  to  determine  with  certainty  its 
theme.  But  at  any  rate,  the  title  indicates  its  connection  with  the 
origin  of  the  Doric  race. 

All  these  various  works  seem  to  have  been  more  or  less  genea- 
logical in  character.  Some  few  other  compositions,  likewise  attrib- 
uted to  Hesiod,  yet  without  more  conclusive  reasons,  were  mere 
lays  detached  from  this  store  of  legend.  One  might  name  as  exam- 
ples the  Melampody,  of  which  we  have  a  very  few  fragments ;  the 
three  poems  on  the  Dactyls  of  Mount  Ida,  on  the  Marriage  of  Peleiis 
and  Thetis,  and  on  the  Descent  of  Tiieseus  to  Hades,  of  which  we 
know  almost  nothing ;  and  finally,  the  Shield  of  Heracles,  which 
has  been  preserved  to  the  present  time. 

The  last  poem,  in  four  hundred  and  eighty  verses,  may  serve  to 
exemplify  the  type.  Setting  aside  the  prologue,  which  is  a  lay  of 
the  Eoioi  relative  to  Alcmena,  the  mother  of  Heracles,  there  remains 
the  narrative  of  the  hero's  strange  combat  against  Cycnus,  son  of 
Ares.  Within  this  is  contained,  as  in  a  frame,  the  long  description 
of  the  Shield  of  Heracles,  which  has  given  its  name  to  the  whole  poem. 
Even  the  idea  of  this  description  is  borrowed  from  the  Iliad  ;  for 
the  shield  of  Heracles  recalls  that  of  Achilles,  and  the  influence  of 
Homer  on  the  Hesiodic  poet  is  shown  in  numerous  imitations  of 
detail.  But  the  very  resemblance  makes  the  difference  between  the 
two  schools  more  striking.  Here  the  description  is  too  much  bur- 
dened with  detail.  It  lacks  the  charming  Ionic  ease  which  wins 
such  ready  acceptation  for  the  episode  of  Book  XVIII.  In  many 
passages  we  find  force  and  grandeur,  and  sometimes  vivid  and  inter- 
esting realism ;  but  there  is  exaggeration  also,  with  an  effort  to  pre- 
sent the  horrible,  which  excites  disgust  rather  than  pleasure.  Tlie 
principal  action  is  treated  summarily,  and  the  invention  is  mediocre. 
Suc'li  a  production  cannot  well  be  placed  elsewhere  than  at  the  end 
of  the  epic  period,  when  imitation  was  becoming  the  all-important 
element  of  poesy. 

9.  Lesser  Writers  of  Genealogical  Poetry.^  —  In  the  class  with 
Hesiod,  antiquity  counted  a  certain  number  of  other  historic  poets, 
such  as  Eumelus  of  Corinth,  Cinaethon  of  Lacedaemon,  Carcinus  of 

1  The  remains  of  their  works  are  given  with  tlie  fragments  of  Hesiod.  See  the 
bibliographies  on  pp.  62  and  64,  and  Kinkel,  Poetarum  Epicorum  Fragmenta,  I. 


80  Greek  Literature 

Naiipactus,  Chersias  of  Orchomenos,  and  Asius  of  Samos.  A  few 
words  will  suffice  to  assign  to  them  their  approximate  dates,  and  so 
establish  the  continuity  of  the  type  of  composition. 

Eumelus,  a  Corinthian  of  the  great  family  of  the  Bacchiades, 
appears  to  have  lived  in  the  second  half  of  the  eighth  century.^ 
Various  historic  poems  now  lost  were  attributed  to  him,  of  which 
the  most  important,  entitled  the  Corinthiaca,  manifestly  treated  of  the 
origins  of  his  native  city.  As  for  the  Europia,  the  Titanomachy,  the 
BoHfjony,  the  Return  of  the  Greeks,  and  the  Processional  Chant  ("Aa-fw. 
TTpwroBLov)  cited  under  his  name,  we  can  say  nothing  certain. 

Cinsethon  of  Lacedaemon,  to  whom  is  assigned  almost  the  same 
date,-  is  said  to  be  the  author  of  a  genealogical  poem  witliout  special 
title,  which  appears  to  have  been  his  principal  work.  To  him  are 
attributed  also  a  Telefjony,  a  Ileradea,  an  CEcUpody,  and  even  the 
Little  Iliad,  in  connection  with  Lesches  of  JNIitylene,  of  whom  we 
have  already  spoken. 

Carcinus  of  Xaupactus  is  named  by  Pausanias  alone  (X,  38,  11) 
as  the  author  of  a  poem  frequently  cited,  called  the  Chants  of  Xau- 
pactus.  The  fragments  show  that  it  was  an  epic  akin  in  general 
form  to  the  Hesiodic  Eoire.  The  women  of  the  heroic  legend,  and 
Medea  particularly,  were  celebrated  in  it. 

Asius  of  Samos  is  better  known  as  an  elegiac  poet,  and  we  shall 
speak  of  him  in  connection  with  the  elegy.  Yet  he  belongs  to  the 
series  of  historic  poets  because  he  wrote  some  genealogies  in  verse, 
mentioned  by  Pausanias  (IV,  2,  1).  He  seems  to  have  lived  in  the 
seventh  century.  The  most  interesting  of  his  fragments  (fr.  13, 
Kinkel)  has  to  do  with  the  customs  of  the  Samians. 

Chersias  of  Orchomenos,  cited  by  the  pseudo-Plutarch  ^  as  a  con- 
temporary of  Periander  (end  of  the  seventh  century),  is  for  us  a 
mere  name,  with  which  no  exact  statement  is  connected. 

The  purpose  of  this  dry  enumeration  is  to  lead  us  to  the  sixth 
century,  when  we  see  the  first  traces  of  history  proper,  wdiich  began 
with  slightly  modified  prose  transcriptions  of  genealogical  poems. 
Accordingly,  there  is  a  direct  affiliation,  wliich  it  is  necessary  to 
point  out  with  clearness. 

Tiie  fact  is  that  the  two  great  forms  of  didactic  poetry  were 
fused  into  two  different  literary  types,  which  absorbed  them.  The 
moral  and  technical  poem  yielded  its  content  to  the  elegy ;  and  the 
genealogical  poem  to  history.  This  does  not  mean  that  neither  had 
had,  in  its  time,  its  reason  for  existence ;  but  their  short  duration 

^  Clement  of  Ale.xandria.  Stro77iate.<<,  I.  144,  Sylburg. 
2  Jerome,  Clirfmlrh-  of  Ensehins,  ad  01.  IV.  2  (TO."]  h.c). 
^  Banqu'-t  nfthc  Sfven  ,Sftaes\  p.  150  f.  of  the  Mortilia. 


Hesiod  and  the  Hesiodlc  Poetry  81 

causes  us  to  suspect  that  between  their  matter  and  their  form  there 
was  not  the  deep,  complete  unity  observable  in  the  case  of  epic.  For 
in  them,  the  matter,  —  reason,  realism,  observation,  it  may  be,  and 
method,  —  so  far  from  demanding  the  ample,  pompous  form  of  epic 
verse,  merely  employed  this  for  the  moment  as  a  means  of  acquir- 
ing po})ularity,  because  it  was  then  fashionable.  But  in  fact,  its 
real  nature  was  prosaic ;  and  more  or  less  rapidly  it  tended  to 
become  prose. 


CHAPTER  VI 

LYRIC  POETRY: GENERAL  FEATURES 

1.    Causes  of  the  Development  of  Lyric  Poetry.     2.  Its  Essential  Characteristics. 

3.  The  First  Type  of  Dignified  Lyric :  the  Nome.    Olympus  and  Terpander. 

4.  Semi-lyrical  Forms :   the  Elegy  and  the  Iamb.      5.    The  Strictly  Lyric 
Forms. 

1.  Causes  of  the  Development  of  Lyric  Poetry. — We  have  already 
seen  that  different  forms  of  poetry  designed  to  be  chanted  had  been 
in  use  in  Greece  from  the  most  remote  period,  and  that  mention  of 
them  is  made  in  the  Homeric  poems.  These  are  on  the  one  hand, 
chants  pertaining  to  the  ceremonies  of  a  cult,  or  hymns  ;  and  on  the 
other,  chants  adapted  to  the  great  events  of  human  life;  funeral 
dirges,  or  threnodies ;  nuptial  chants,  or  hymeneals ;  chants  of 
thanksgiving,  or  pceans  ;  and  rustic  chants  such  as  the  yElinos,  a 
lamentation  for  the  death  of  the  beautiful  Linos,  who  was  smitten 
by  the  fatal  arrows  of  Apollo. 

But  during  long  centuries,  this  branch  of  poetry  produced  no 
real  literary  work.  Its  cliaracter  was  of  wholly  popular  simplicity. 
Beginniug  with  old,  traditional  airs,  sometimes  of  foreign  origin  it 
may  be,  and  with  short  monotonous  musical  phrases,  village  bards, 
professional  mourners,  or  rustic  musicians  improvised  a  few  simple 
words,  broken  at  regular  intervals  by  a  refrain  which  their  audience 
sang  in  chorus.  Even  in  the  sanctuaries,  the  hymns  of  the  sacred 
bards  must  have  been  more  like  simple  litanies  than  odes.  All  real 
artists  turned  to  ej)ic.  The  story  of  the  exploits  of  Odysseus  and 
Achilles  formed  the  favorite  theme  of  inspired,  ctiltured  minstrels. 
And  step  by  step  they  brought  narrative  poetry  to  a  high  degree 
of  perfection  and  brilliance,  Avhereas  lyric  poetry  shone  only  with 
the  dim  light  of  a  wholly  instinctive  art.  It  lived  from  hand  to 
mouth,  and  its  works  of  improvisation  disappeared,  leaving  no 
trace,  behind  them. 

P>ut  in  the  beginning  of  the  eighth  century,  at  about  the  time  of  ""^ 
the  first  Olympiads,  the  relation  of  the  Uvo-gVeat  forms  of  poetry 
was  modified.     The  epic  was  beginning  to  die  out,  and  the  lyric 
poem  came  to  its  full  splendor.     It  is  the  commencement  of  a  new 

82 


Lyric  Poetry:   General  Features  83 

epoch  of  about  three  centuries  whose  great  literary  names  were  to 
be  those  of  lyric  poets,  whereas  the  works  conceived  in  imitation  of 
Homer  and  Hesiod  were  to  become,  more  and  more,  rare  and  medi- 
ocre. The  epic  period  was  giving  way  to  the  lyric.  It  was  an  im- 
portant literary  transformation  which,  as  always  in  Greece,  had  its 
roots  in  a  corresponding  reformation  of  customs  and  of  public 
spirit. 

Lyric  poetry,  as  expressing  a  personal  or  collective,  but  always 
present,  emotion,  in  order  to  be  really  literary  would  seem  to  demand 
a  greater  moral  and  intellectual  maturity  than  simple  epic  narrative. 
Primitive  minds,  like  those  of  children,  have  no  great  imaginative 
interest  in  the  world  of  reality.  They  are  content  to  be  influenced 
by  it,  without  considering  it  as  a  matter  of  art.  When  they  wish  to 
give  play  to  their  imagination,  they  take  refuge  in  a  realm  of  dreams 
which  they  project  into  a  transfigured  past.  They  have,  indeed, 
moments  of  strong  emotion ;  but  capacity  for  emotion  does  not  neces- 
sitate its  expression  in  poetry.  Then,  too,  there  must  be  the  capacity 
to  observe  the  emotion  from  without,  so  to  speak,  and  take  an  artistic 
interest  in  it.  The  Greeks  in  the  time  of  Homer  felt  an  artistic 
emotion  over  the  passions  of  an  Achilles  or  the  misfortunes  of  an 
Odysseus ;  but  for  the  happiness  or  unhappiness  of  their  own  life,  a 
cry  of  joy  or  sorrow,  a  prayer  to  a  divinity,  a  monotonous  refrain, 
like  the  moaning  of  the  wounded  man,  sufficed  for  the  expression  of 
sentiments  which  they  were  not  able  to  regard  objectively.  And 
the  general  emotions,  which  play  so  considerable  a  part  in  the  Greek 
lyric,  were  rarer  and  feebler  than  now.  Men  did  not  often  stop  to 
analyze  them,  hardly  comprehending  that  the  world  of  reality  might 
be  made  the  subject  of  a  work  of  art. 

It  was  not  till  the  beginning  of  the  eighth  century  that  the  Greek 
mind  passed  out  of  this  stage  in  its  moral  life,  abandoning  long  child- 
ish reveries  about  a  poetic  ideal  of  the  past  to  attempt  the  conquest  of 
the  present  real  world.  The  transformation  is  seen  in  every  phase 
of  life,  but  notably  in  politics.  The  city  took  the  place  of  the  old 
patriarchal  kingdom.  The  individual  became  his  own  master.  His 
obedience  to  law  was  a  voluntary  compliance  of  his  will  with  the 
common  will  of  all,  a  sentiment  of  discipline  and  solidarity  which 
presupposes  in  the  members  of  the  community  a  capacity  for  self- 
government  and  self-possession.  The  city  in  return,  as  the  product 
of  the  energy  of  individuals,  strengthened  and  increased  that  energy 
through  the  daily  exercise  on  their  part  of  political  functions.  For 
minds  thus  trained,  real  life  took  on  new  value  and  interest.  Men 
came  to  be  passionately  attached  to  it.  They  strove  for  its  improve- 
ment and  sought  to  comprehend  it.     They  found  in  it  the  source  of 


N. 


84  Greek  Literature 

a  thousand  emotions,  and  these  they  were  interested  in  watching 
and  describing.     Then  it  was  that  they  were  ripe  for  lyric  poetry. 

The  occasions  for  such  emotion  were  singularly  multiplied.  To 
those  that  once  had  come  and  still  continued  to  come  from  the  inci- 
dents of  private  life,  others  were  added  by  the  new  political  condi- 
tions. An  intense  community  life,  such  as  the  Homeric  age  could 
not  have  thought  possible,  brought  together  the  thousands  of  souls 
composing  the  city,  and  taught  them  to  live  harmoniously  in  a 
multitude  of  circumstances.  This  gave  rise  to  new  sentiments  — 
new  at  least  in  intensity  —  and  to  numerous  occasions  for  manifest- 
ing them  in  common.  Civic  patriotism  was  ardent  and  universal, 
playing  its  part  in  religion,  in  pan-Hellenic  festivals,  in  splendid 
games,  in  curiosity  about  the  old  legends,  in  the  traditional  cultiva- 
tion of  epic  poetry.  It  was  present,  as  an  animating  force,  through- 
out the  social  organism.  It  gave  rise  to  pompous  panegyrics, 
through  which  it  was  communicated  to  the  outside  Avorld.  The 
relish  for  life  in  common  multiplied  banquets  and  reunions  of  every 
sort.  All  these  sentiments  needed  an  organ,  a  voice,  for  their 
expression. 

This  means  was  furnished  by  lyric  poetry.  It  became  more  com- 
plete and  effective,  that  it  might  discharge  its  new  functions.  At  first 
it  made  numerous  acquisitions  to  its  music,  indigenous  or  exotic.  It 
perfected  its  instruments,  both  flutes  and  citharas.  It  developed  its 
rhythms.  It  made  use  of  new  musical  scales.  It  extended  the  phases 
of  its  melody.  It  enhanced  the  size  and  flexibility  of  its  dancing 
choruses.  Above  all,  from  a  literary  point  of  view,  it  underwent  a 
thorough  transformation  at  the  hands  of  a  throng  of  great  artists,  who 
gradually  formulated  its  poetic  system ;  that  is,  the  rules  governing 
the  invention  of  its  motives,  the  composition  of  its  poems,  and  the 
style  of  expression  for  its  ideas.  One  may  perhaps  say  that  the 
literary  reform  was  the  most  important  of  all.  Whatever  the  dif- 
ference between  the  music  of  the  old  popular  chants  and  the  melo- 
dies of  an  Alcman  or  a  Stesichorus,  it  is  evident  that  the  difference 
was  still  greater  between  the  artless  prattle  of  these  old  songs  and 
the  supple,  intricate  productions  of  a  thought  which  incor])on\ted  in 
lyric  forms  all  the  art  of  analysis  and  expression  that  had  been 
evolved  during  three  or  four  centuries  of  epic  poetry. 

2.  Essential  Characteristics  of  Lyric  Poetry.  —  We  need  not  here 
enter  minutfly  into  the  difficult  problems  of  the  technical  construc- 
tion of  ;i  (rrcek  lyric  poem.  Greek  music  is  very  little  understood. 
Scholars  discuss  even  the  rhythm  in  the  poetry  of  Pindar  or  liacchyl- 
ides  without  arriving  at  any  certain  conclusion.  Only  the  literary 
form  of  lyric  poetry  can  be  determined  from  the  examples  still  pre- 


Lyric  Poetry:   General  Features  85 

served.  Without  tarrying  over  obscure  and  controverted  matters, 
we  must  get,  at  the  beginning,  some  idea  of  the  characteristics  of 
Greek  lyric  works  and  see  how  they  differ  from  what  we  call  lyric 
in  modern  literature.' 

Greek  lyric  poetry  was  composed  to  be  chanted  to  the  accom- 
paniment of  instruments.  It  is  sometimes  chanted,  not  by  a  single 
voice,  but  by  a  chorus ;  and  the  chorus  is  now  stationary,  and  now 
in  motion.  Its  movements  are  marches  or  regular  dances.  So  in 
lyric  poetry,  when  complete,  words,  music,  and  dancing  combine 
to  produce  the  whole  effect.  Their  uniting  bond  —  the  soul,  so  to 
speak,  animating  the  body  composed  of  these  three  elements  — 
is  rhythm.  It  determines  the  movement  of  dance,  music,  and 
poetry. 

Of  the  elements  thus  associated,  poetry  is  the  predominant  one. 
Hence  its  role  differs  from  the  role  it  plays  in  modern  opera. 
Among  us,  when  poetry  is  associated  with  music,  the  music  is  ordi- 
narily predominant,  and  the  poetry  becomes  subordinate.  The  dif- 
ference is  inherent  in  the  nature  of  Greek  music ;  and  of  this  we  must 
now  speak. 

Greek  music,  in  comparison  with  ours,  has  always  been  extremely 
simple ;  and  this  simplicity  is  particularly  marked  in  the  period  from 
the  eighth  to  the  fifth  centuries.  It  habitually  employed  only  stringed 
instruments  such  as  the  cithara,  and  wind  instruments  such  as  the 
flute.  But  the  cithara,  a  sort  of  portable  harp  without  a  foot-board, 
lacked  sonorousness,  and  was  incapable  of  shading  its  tones.  Its 
sole  merit  — yet  the  great  one  in  the  eyes  of  the  Greeks  —  was  that 
of  giving  out  very  pure  tones,  so  that  it  marked  the  rhythm  dis- 
tinctly. The  flute,  though  wider  in  range  and  more  expressive,  was 
in  ill  repute  among  the  severer  moralists  on  account  of  these  attrac- 
tive qualities.  It  does  not  seem  highly  impassioned  except  by  com- 
parison with  the  meagre  cithara ;  for  in  the  beginning,  at  least,  it 
was  merely  a  sort  of  clarionet,  but  with  fewer  high  notes  than  ours. 
The  simplicity  of  tlie  airs  corresponded  with  that  of  the  instrument. 
In  general,  they  had  but  a  small  number  of  notes.  It  is  said  that, 
till  the  time  of  Terpander,  the  Greeks  had  only  four  strings  in  the 
cithara.  What  is  more  certain  is  that,  after  Terpander,  there  never 
were  more  than  eight.     In  the  beginning,  each  district  of  Greece  had 

^  For  the  technique  of  Greek  rhythm,  consult  Rossbacli  und  Westphal,  TJieorie 
clcr  musischen  Kunst  der  HeUetiPn,  8  vols..  Leipsic,  1885-1889;  Christ,  Metrik 
der  Griechen  loid  Jiomer  ;  Schmidt,  Kunstfurmen  dcr  griechischen  Po^sic,  4  vols., 
Leipsic,  1868;  Ibid.,  An  Introduc(ii>7i  to  the.  llhythmic  and  Metric  of  the  Clas- 
sical Langvdfjes,  trans,  by  John  Williams  White,  Hoston,  1880  ;  Goodell,  Chap- 
ters on  Greek  Metric,  New  York,  1902 ;  V.  Masqueray,  Traite  de  Metrique 
'jrecqiie,  Paris,  Kliencksieck,  1899  ;  A.  Croiset,  Poesie  de  Pindare,  pp.  24-101. 


86  Greek  Literature 

its  own  musical  scale  or  mode,  characterized  by  the  place  of  the  semi- 
tone and  the  tonic  in  the  gamut.  Gradually  the  different  scales  be- 
came the  common  patrimony  of  all  Greeks,  each  offering  to  the  artist 
its  own  resources  for  the  expression  of  sentiment.  The  Dorian  and 
the  Phrygian  were  the  principal  modes,  one  more  severe,  the  other 
more  passionate.  Whatever  the  number  and  variety  of  these  modes, 
they  never  gave  rise  to  any  melodies  whose  scheme  was  other  than 
elementary.  Furthermore,  the  simple  melodies  were  not  enriched 
and  sustained  by  the  resources  of  harmony,  for  that  was  almost  un- 
known among  the  Greeks.  Instruments  and  voices  were  generally 
in  unison,  though  sometimes  two  groups  were  an  octave  apart. 
The  harmony  was  limited  to  a  few  rai-e  chords  in  the  accompani- 
ment. 

It  is  easy  to  see  that  neither  the  soft-toned  instruments  nor  the 
simple  melodies  were  likely  to  drown  the  voice  of  the  singer.  The 
rhythm  of  the  music,  instead  of  obscuring,  rather  sustained  the  voice, 
by  following  the  natural  rhythm  of  the  words.  The  strong  and  weak 
accents  of  the  music  generally  correspond  to  the  long  and  short  syl- 
lables of  the  language.  And  in  the  chant,  these  kept  their  ordinary 
length  and  shortness.  The  verses  or  metres,  that  is,  the  measured 
form  of  words  designed  for  the  chant,  brought  before  the  ancient 
reader,  without  change,  the  exact  rhythm  of  the  music.  If  we  can 
no  longer  find  this  expressed  in  the  words,  it  is  because  we  have  lost 
some  of  the  principles  of  the  art.  Yet  we  can  almost  always  get  a 
partial  view,  as  at  least  the  general  characteristics  of  Greek  rhythm 
are  still  known.  Since  the  rhythm,  in  the  judgment  of  the  Greeks, 
was  an  essential  part  of  their  lyric  poetry,  even  more  expressive  than 
the  melody  proper,  and  since  the  preserved  works  of  their  poets 
retain  it  in  the  arrangement  of  the  verses,  we  must  try  to  set  forth 
its  essential  features. 

What  determines  the  character  of  Greek  rhythm  is,  above  all,  the 
time  relation  between  the  arsis  and  the  thesis  of  each  foot  or  meas- 
ure. This  relation  is  one  of  equality  in  tlie  dactylic  rhythm  (_v./w), 
of  one  to  two  in  the  iambic  (vy_),  and  of  two  to  three  in  the  paeonic 
{—\yKy\j).  The  dactylic  rhythms  have  more  of  calm  and  noble  seri- 
ousness, and  the  phonic  more  of  excited  agitation;  while  the  iambic 
have  an  intermediate  character.  Moreover,  the  Greeks  made  a  very 
marked  difference  in  each  kind  of  rhytlim  between  the  feet  that 
begin  with  a  long  syllable  and  those  that  begin  with  a  short  one. 
The  first  have  a  cadence  that  is  softer  and  seems  to  fall ;  the  second 
have  more  energy  and  spring. 

r    The  fept  are  grouped  into  cola,  or  members ;  the  members  into 
verses ;  the  verses  into  periods  and  strophes ;  and  these  into  larger 


Lyric  Poetry:   General  Features  87 

groups,  of  which  the  most  important  is  the  triad  (strophe,  antistrophe, 
and  epode).  A  verse  proper  is  made  up  of  two  members,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  epic  hexameter  or  the  iambic  senarius.  This  is  the  oldest 
and  simplest  construction.  Lyric  poetry  constantly  tended  to  expand 
its  groups  and  diversify  its  combinations.  The  oldest  lyric  strophes 
have  a  small  number  of  members  or  verses,  each  very  simple;  but 
the  odes  of  Pindar  or  Bacchylides  have  several  triads,  each  of  long 
and  complicated  strophes.  Yet,  in  general,  feet  of  different  types 
were  not  combined  together  —  the  dactyl  with  the  iamb,  for  example, 
or  the  iamb  with  the  paeon.  At  all  events,  if  such  combinations 
were  made,  this  was  done  to  produce  an  unusual  and  rare  effect ;  and 
as  a  rule  we  may  suppose  that,  even  where  the  metre  seems  to  be 
composed  of  heterogeneous  elements,  the  diversity  was  reduced 
to  uniformity  by  some  means  of  execution  that  we  no  longer  under- 
stand. 

One  more  trait  to  be  noted  is  that  the  poet,  or  the  author  of 
the  words,  is  at  the  same  time  the  author  of  the  music.  The 
Greek  lyric  writers  were  both  poets  and  composers.  Very  often, 
too,  they  rendered  the  music  themselves,  chanting  to  the  music  of 
the  cithara.  When  their  poems  were  to  be  accompanied  by  the  flute, 
since  it  is  impossible  at  the  same  time  to  sing  and  to  play  that 
instrument,  they  reserved  for  themselves  the  singing,  leaving  the 
instrument  to  a  specialist;  yet  it  was  they  who  composed  the  air. 
From  every  point  of  view,  therefore,  it  is  the  chant,  the  poetry,  that 
is  predominant ;  the  music  is  only  a  support  for  the  words.  First  of 
all,  the  poets  were  great  artists,  and  put  into  the  words  all  the  beauty 
and  expressive  force  possible.  Hence  Greek  lyric  poems  are  literary 
works  of  the  first  order  ;  and  some  of  them,  those  of  Stesichorus  and 
Pindar,  for  example,  were  esteemed  by  the  critics  of  antiquity  as 
almost  equal  to  the  masterpieces  of  Homer. 

3.  First  Type  of  Dignified  Lyric :  the  Nome.  Olympus  and  Ter- 
pander.  —  During  the  period  of  about  three  centuries,  while  this  rich 
product  of  poetry  and  music  was  being  formed,  there  appeared  in 
succession  a  great  variety  of  lyric  types.  The  earliest  of  these  is 
that  called  the  "nome''  (vo/ios). 

The  meaning  of  the  word  is  somewhat  obscure,  or  at  least  vague. 
It  seems  to  signify  properly  an  ''air";  but  that  does  not  mean  any- 
thing definitive.  Historically  it  designates  a  type  of  composition, 
but  the  principal  characteristics  of  the  type  it  is  impossible  to 
determine. 

The  nome  was  a  liturgical  chant  executed  in  honor  of  a  god  by  a 
single  singer,  who  played  his  own  accompaniment  on  the  citliara. 
He  probably  began  with  an  invocation ;  then  he  related  a  mythic. 


88  Greek  Literature 

narrative  borrowed  from  the  legend  of  the  god,  and  ended  with  a 
prayer.  Antiquity  attributed  to  the  Lesbian  Terpander  the  honor 
of  having  brought  the  citharedic  nome  to  perfection.  He  was  said  to 
have  increased  the  number  of  its  parts  from  three  to  seven.  We 
have  seen  that  he  was  also  thought  to  have  improved  the  cithara  by 
increasing  the  number  of  the  strings.  However  obscure  or  uncertain 
these  traditions,  it  is  easily  seen  that  his  work,  in  the  opinion  of  the 
ancients,  consisted  in  being  the  first  to  make  the  old  traditional  nome 
a  permanent  Avork  of  art,  and  that  his  role  was  at  once  musical  and 
literary.  He  is  said  to  have  lived  at  the  end  of  the  eighth  century  and 
the  beginning  of  the  seventh.  It  was  the  period  of  greatest  progress 
in  Greek  music.  The  nome,  executed  by  a  single  singer,  a  professional 
virtuoso,  evidently  found  itself,  prior  to  the  more  popular  airs,  in  a 
condition  to  profit  by  the  new  inventions.  Lesbos,  moreover,  the 
island  to  which  the  head  of  Orpheus  was  said  to  have  been  carried 

'  by  the  waves  after  his  death,  was  well  fitted  geographically  to  com- 
bine the  old  musical  traditions  of  Greece  proper  with  the  usages  of 
Asia  Minor.  In  this  way  the  great  part  attributed  by  antiquity  to 
the  Lesbian  Terpander  in  the  final  constitution  of  the  laws  of  lyric 
poetry  is  easily  explained.  But  of  his  role  and  work  only  vague 
and  confused  accounts  were  left  behind;  and  it  is  impossible  to 
determine  to-day  his  precise  worth  as  a  poet.  A  few  verses  pre- 
served under  his  name,  which  are  composed  wholly  of  lojig  syllables, 
give  the  impression  of  grave  religious  poetry,  but  we  cannot  deduce 
from  them  his  literary  personality,  and  even  the  genuineness  of  the 
verses  in  doubt.' 

Besides  the  citharedic  nome,  there  was  a  Greek  tradition  about 
another  nome  accompanied  by  the  flute,  wliose  creation  was  attributed 

■*  to  a  Phrygian  named  Olympus.  The  Phrygian  origin  of  Olympus 
shows  that  from  Phrygia,  the  land  of  the  satyr  Marsyas,  Greece 
derived  some  form  of  music  not  indigenous,  designed  to  be  accom- 
panied by  the  flute.  The  personality  of  01ym])us  is  unknown. 
Perhaps  the  name  was  a  mere  label  by  which  men  later  designated 
a  considerable  group  of  old  Asiatic  airs  executed  by  performers  on 
the  flute.  Plato  speaks,  in  his  time,  of  these  old  airs  and  their 
singular  charm,  as  a  man  who  had  heard  them  himself.  It  is  not 
easy  to  decide  to  what  date  to  assign  the  hypothetical  Olympus. 
Sometimes  two  personages  of  the  same  name  are  distinguished,  one 
of  whom  lived  earlier  than  Terpander.  and  tlie  other  later.  All  this 
signifies  that  in  the  music  which  goes  by  his  name,  there  were  popu- 
lar melodies  whose  origin  was  very  ancient ;  aiid  nonies  considerably 

1  Fras^nients  of  Terpander  in  Bergk,  PuetcE  Lyrici  Grceci,  III,  7  ;  and  Ililler, 
Antholngia  Lyrica,  Toubner,  p.  1G3. 


Lyric  Poetry :   General  Features  89 

more  recent  in  date,  composed  for  the  flute  in  imitation  of  Terpan- 
der's  nomes  for  the  cithara.  Olympus  and  his  school  would  have  no 
claim  to  a  place  in  the  history  of  literature,  if  a  curious  bit  of  infor- 
mation did  not  tell  us  that  the  nomes  said  to  be  composed  for  the 
flute  were  in  elegiac  verse ;  hence  we  are  led  to  suppose  that  the 
invention  of  this  metre,  which  was  to  enjoy  so  brilliant  a  career,  goes 
back  to  the  old  school  of  Graeco-Phrygian  flute-players,  personified 
under  the  name  of  Olympus. 

4.  Semi-lyric  Forms :  the  Elegy  and  the  Iamb.  —  After  the  nome, 
the  lyric  forms  which  first  came  to  literary  perfection  were  the  elegy 
and  the  iamb,  two  forms  really  but  half  lyric,  as  their  metrical  struc- 
ture is  almost  as  simple  and  regular  as  that  of  epic,  and  so  is  very 
easily  dissociated  from  musical  accompaniment.  Their  accompani- 
ment, besides,  is  reputed  to  have  been  quite  simple  —  a  few  notes 
calculated  to  sustain  the  voice  of  a  declairaer,  rather  than  an  air  in 
the  strict  sense  of  the  term.  And  this  seems  the  more  probable, 
because  of  the  liberty  of  metrical  structure  in  the  iambic  and  elegiac 
verses,  where  the  iamb  and  the  spondee,  or  the  dactyl  and  the  spon- 
dee, constantly  replace  each  other  in  corresponding  situations  of 
successive  verses. 

The  word  eXeyos,  probably  Asiatic  in  its  origin,  appears  to  have 
meant  at  first  a  flute  of  reed-cane.  It  was  then  applied  to  a  sort  of 
threnody,  or  funeral  lamentation,  accompanied  by  the  playing  of  the 
flute.  The  elegiac  metre  (IXcydov,  sc.  nerpov)  is  a  distich  formed  of 
two  hexameters  of  which  the  second  —  very  improperly  called  pen- 
tameter—  includes  two  "  silences,"  one  at  the  middle  and  one  at  the 
end.  A  siiccession  of  distichs  forms  an  eleg3^  Each  distich  is  a 
short  strophe  of  very  simple  design,  whose  monotonous  brevity  is 
well  suited  to  the  expression  of  reflective  thought,  and  particularly 
of  sadness.  We  have  already  seen  that  the  nome  for  the  flute  em- 
ployed it.  As  early  as  the  seventh  century  we  find  this  rhythm 
used  to  express  all  sorts  of  personal  meditations  and  thoughts 
of  a  specially  energetic  character,  since  it  is  equally  removed  from 
the  dignity  of  epic  and  the  lively  or  disdainful  familiarity  of  the 
iamb.  The  elegy  was  executed  particularly  at  festivals.  It  may  be 
a  serious  conversation,  or  a  bit  of  counsel  or  of  confidence  about 
one's  emotions;  but  always  it  is  impersonal.  Owing  to  the  precision 
of  its  metre,  it  excels  in  expressing  moral  maxims.  It  was  early 
dissociated  from  music ;  mere  elegance  of  verse  supplied  its  needs  ; 
it  was  recited  and  read,  but  not  sung. 

The  iamb,  as  a  literary  type,  is  almost  contemporary  with  the 
elegy.  In  origin,  it  is  probably  connected  with  the  cult  of  Demeter. 
The  Homeric  hymn  to  that  goddess  relates  that,  in  search  of  her 


90  Greek  Literature 

daughter,  she  came  to  Eleusis,  and  there  abandoned  herself  to  grief, 
wlien  a  servant  by  the  name  of  lambe  caused  her  to  laugh  at  some 
pleasantries.  And  so  later  lambe  came  to  have  the  honor  of  a  place 
in  the  liturgy  of  the  mysteries.  The  etymology  of  the  word  la/x/So? 
—  whence  the  attempt  has  been  made  to  derive  the  name  lambe  — 
is  not  known.  All  one  can  say  is  that  it  must  have  served  to  desig- 
nate, in  very  early  times,  a  popular  satire,  analogous  to  that  which 
the  legend  attributed  to  lambe.  The  idea  of  satire  and  raillery 
came  to  be  indissoluble  from  the  name  of  the  iamb.  In  the  musical 
sense,  the  phrase  "  iambic  movement "  is  applied  to  all  poetry  chanted 
to  a  rhythm  of  triple  time.  This  is  not  the  sense  in  which  we  take  it 
here :  the  iamb  proper  is  a  foot  having  three  short  morce.  and  begin- 
ning with  a  short  syllable.  The  most  common  iambic  verse  is  com- 
posed of  three  iambic  dimeters.  When  the  iambic  verse  is  actually 
chanted,  metres  of  different  lengths  are  sometimes  united  in  a 
strophe.  Sometimes,  by  an  amusing  contrast,  even  the  trochee 
brusquely  displaces  the  iamb  and  breaks  the  unity  of  the  rhythm. 
At  other  times,  the  iambic  verse  was  not  really  chanted,  but  accom- 
panied by  the  playing  of  an  instrument  (the  KXci/^ui/Lt/Sos,  the  nature 
of  which  is  not  known)  that  did  not  follow  the  language,  syllable  for 
syllable,  as  in  the  ordinary  chant,  but  gave  it  a  free  accompaniment. 
One  sees  the  tendency  of  the  iamb  to  detach  itself  from  melody. 
The  separation  was  probably  effected  early,  at  least  for  the  common 
form  of  iambic  metre,  the  trimeter,  whose  popular  character  and 
easily  intelligible  rhythm  had  not  much  need  of  the  help  of  music. 

Although  elegy  and  iamb  were  types  of  very  different  origin,  they 
had  traits  in  common  that  tended  to  reconcile  them :  both  were 
V  adapted  to  chatty  conversation,  though  with  a  slight  difference  of 
tone;  both  gave  to  the  musical  accompaniment  a  quite  subordinate 
place  and  finally  even  dispensed  with  it.  So  we  need  not  be  sur- 
prised to  see  the  two  types  often  treated  by  the  same  poet  with 
adroitness  and  success.  For  that  reason  we  shall  not  study  the  two 
separately.  We  shall  consider  in  a  single  chapter  Archilochus,  the 
master  of  the  iamb,  and  Solon,  the  master  of  the  elegy,  each  of  whom 
excelled  also  in  the  form  preferred  by  the  other. 

5.  The  Strictly  Lyric  Forms.  —  Besides  the  iamb  and  the  elegy, 
there  were  produced  and  developed  a  number  of  other  types  which, 
however,  had  the  common  characteristic  of  giving  to  music  a  place 
more  and  more  important. 

These  are,  first,  various  forms  of  personal  poetic  expression  that 
might  be  called  generally  songs,  or  light  odes.  Nor  need  we  dis- 
tinguish them  according  as  they  have  for  their  subject  love,  wine, 
war,  or  something  still  different.     The  only  distinction  correspond- 


Lyric  Poetry:   General  Features  91 

ing  to  a  difference  of  type  is  that  connected  with  certain  festal  lays 
called  "scolia."  These  will  be  treated  in  a  later  chapter  (see 
chap.  VIII,  3). 

Next  come  a  number  of  forms  of  popular  origin,  adapted  to 
express  general  emotions  and  chanted  ordinarily  by  a  chorus.  They 
are  the  hymeneal,  the  threnody,  and  the  paean,  mentioned,  as  we 
have  seen,  in  the  Homeric  poems  ;  then  the  hyporchema,  illustrated 
in  the  hymn  to  the  Delian  Apollo,  which  is  an  ode  accompanied  by 
imitative  dances ;  lastly  the  dithyramb,  connected  with  the  vintage 
festival  and  distinguished  from  all  the  preceding  types  by  its  tumul- 
tuous movement  and  by  the  tendency  of  its  chorus  to  dance  in  a 
circle.  That  is  to  say,  in  the  other  types,  the  chorus  advances  as  in 
a  march,  or  dances  in  parallel  files,  its  movements  being  designed 
for  gravity  or  for  grace ;  here  the  intoxicating  influence  of  Dionysus 
overcomes  the  dancers. 

There  is  a  final  category  of  lyric  chants  which  are  either  the 
inventions  of  advanced  art,  or  such  complete  transformations  of 
ancient  popular  forms  that  their  popular  origin  is  quite  concealed. 
For  instance,  ih.Q prosodion,  or  processional  march,  and  ih.Q parthenion, 
which  is  a  prosodion  executed  by  young  girls,  were  possibly  in  use 
before  the  period  of  the  ornate  lyric ;  yet  we  do  not  meet  with 
authentic  examples  before  the  time  when  the  art  had  reached  its 
maturity  ;  and  these  appear  at  once  with  a  character  of  complete 
elegance.  Moreover,  one  could  in  this  way  connect  the  heroic  hymn, 
as  written  by  Stesicliorus,  with  the  oldest  hymns  of  the  bards ; 
but  it  is  more  plausible  to  consider  the  phenomenon  as  wholly  new. 
The  case  is  the  same,  for  yet  a  better  reason,  with  the  laudatory 
hymn,  or  encomium,  and  the  triumphal  ode,  or  epinicion,  which  are 
the  acknowledged  products  of  a  complex  civilization  and  of  a  brill- 
iant, refined,  artistic  taste. 

The  characteristics  of  each  of  these  types  will  be  more  easily 
given  when  we  come  to  note  the  first  appearance  of  each  in  the  his- 
tory of  lyric  composition.  For  the  present,  let  it  suffice  to  say  a 
final  word  about  a  feature  common  to  them  all  whicli  possibly  will 
lead  to  a  better  understanding  of  their  evolution  :  this  is  that  the 
general  progress  of  lyric  poetry  is  toward  an  ideal  of  poetic  and 
musical  sumptuousness,  of  studied  elegance,  of  nobility  sometimes 
rather  conventional,  imposed  unconsciously  on  all  the  types,  which 
effaces  many  of  the  original  differences  between  them.  Hence,  for 
example,  in  Pindar  or  Bacchylides,  there  are  only  shades  of  differ- 
ence between  the  tone  of  a  heroic  hymn  and  that  of  a  scolion, 
between  a  prean  and  a  J);/}->(»-chf'ma  or  a  ditliyramb.  The  popular 
origin  of  lyric  poetry  is  thenceforth  obscured;  the  original  differences 


92  Greek  Literature 

are  lost  beneath  the  uniformly  abundant  flood  of  sonorous  vowels 
and  harmonious  musical  periods.^ 

1  [The  following  classification  may  help  the  reader  to  a  better  understanding 
of  Greek  lyric  poetry  :  — 
The  Lyric  Poem. 

1.  The  Popular  Lyric. 

a.  The  Nome. 

b.  The  Light  Ode,  including  the  Scolion. 

2.  The  Semi-Popular  Lyric. 

a.  The  Hymeneal. 

b.  The  Threnody. 

c.  The  Ptean. 

d.  The  Hyporchema. 

e.  The  Dithyramb. 

3.  The  Ornate  Lyric. 

a.  The  Prosodion.  including  the  Parthenion. 

b.  The  Heroic  Hymn. 

c.  The  Encomium,  including  the  Epinicion.  —  Tr,] 


CHAPTER   VII 

ELEGIAC  AND  IAMBIC  POETRY 

1.  Preliminary  Observations.  2.  Callinus.  3.  Archilochus.  4.  Simonides  of 
Amorgos.  5.  Tyrtaeus.  6.  Mimnermus.  7.  Solon.  8.  Theognis.  9.  Pho- 
cylides.     10.  The  Epigram.     11.  Hipponax.^ 

1.  Preliminary  Observations.  —  The  masters  of  elegiac  and  iambic 
poetry  are  not  known  except  through  fragments.  Some  of  these,  it 
is  true,  are  long  enough  to  allow  us  to  reconstruct  the  general  trend 
of  the  thought  and  the  character  of  the  composition  ;  yet  we  do  not 
know  for  certain  that  we  possess  a  single  complete  elegy  or  an 
iambic  poem  wholly  intact.  Hence  our  opinion  of  elegiac  and  iambic 
composition  must  always  be  given  with  reserve.  Furthermore,  we 
are  in  danger  at  times  of  receiving  the  wrong  impression.  Since  the 
elegiac  poems,  in  particular,  abound  in  easily  detachable  moral 
reflections  (yvwfiai),  the  authors  of  these  maxims  are  sometimes 
called  "  gnomic  "  poets ;  that  is,  writers  of  maxims.  AVere  the  expres- 
sion taken  literally,  one  would  be  tempted  to  see  in  these  vivacious 
poets  professional  moralists  or  pedagogic  versifiers  like  Dufaur  de 
Pibrac,  who  wrote  moral  quatrains  in  the  sixteenth  century.  But 
so  far  as  most  of  them  were  concerned,  nothing  would  be  more  inex- 
act. The  elegiac  poets,  like  the  masters  of  the  iamb,  are  thoroughly 
individual ;  and  their  very  moralizing  ordinarily  reveals  the  pre- 
possessions of  their  life.  Most  of  them  have  an  original  character, 
in  which  the  impress  of  their  race  and  time  is  combined,  in  a  most 
interesting  way,  with  traits  peculiar  to  them  alone.  Happily  the 
remains  of  their  works,  however  much  mutilated,  still  preserve  the 
essentials  of  their  intellectual  and  moral  character ;  and  it  is  not 
impossible  to  make  this  seem,  to  some  extent,  real  again. 

^  Bibliography  :  The  fra<;mcnts  of  the  elegiac  and  iambic  poets  have  been 
published  by  Bergk,  Pnetce  Lyrici  Grccci^  II,  Lcipsic,  4tli  ed.,  1878,  and  by 
Hiller.  Anthnlogia  Lyrirn,  Leipsic,  Teubner,  1899.  Cf.  Buchholz,  Anthologie 
aus  den  Lyrikcn  der  Griechen,  I,  Leipsic,  1886.  There  is  a  special  edition  of 
Theognis  by  Welcker,  Theixjnidis  Megnrensis  Edii/nia:,  Frankfurt-ain-Main, 
182G,  with  prolegomena  and  notes.  A  French  translation  of  the  principal  elegiac 
poets  is  in  the  I'oetes  Moralistts  de  la  Grece,  Paris,  (Jarnier.  The  text  of  llip- 
ponax  is  edited  by  Welcker,  Gottingcn,  1817  ;  Lachinaiui,  Choliamhirn  Pnesis 
Grwcornm,  Berlin,  1846  ;  and  Rossignol,  Les  Choliamboyraphes  yrecs  et  latins, 
Paris,  1849. 

93 


94  Greek  Literature 

2.  Callinus.  —  Perhaps  the  most  ancient  of  the  elegiac  poets  was 
Callinus  of  Ephesus,  whom  Strabo  considers  to  be  earlier  than  Archil- 
ochus.  This  would  put  him  at  the  beginning  of  the  seventh  cen- 
tury.^ Yet  we  know  almost  nothing  about  him,  except  that  he  saw 
Asia  Minor  threatened  or  invaded  by  the  Cimmerians,  and  that, 
among  other  poems,  he  composed  elegies  in  which  he  exhorted  his 
fellow-citizens  to  awake  from  their  torpor :  — 

"  How  long  will  ye  lie  sleeping  ?  How  soon,  young  men,  will  ye 
make  your  hearts  valiant  ?  In  the  presence  of  the  stranger,  ye  live 
in  delicacy,  and  are  not  ashamed ;  ye  are  confident  of  peace,  though 
war  menaces  the  entire  country."  ^ 

The  elegy  thus  constituted  seems  at  once  like  a  harangue  of 
Demosthenes.  It  is  the  harangue  of  a  time  when  there  was  yet 
no  prose.  The  remainder  of  the  fragment  is  an  eloquent,  and  no 
less  energetic,  call  to  courage :  — 

"  Let  every  man  hurl  from  his  dying  hand  yet  one  last  javelin. 
It  is  glorious  and  noble  for  a  soldier  to  protect  his  country,  his 
children,  and  the  maiden  whom  he  has  espoused,  from  the  hands  of 
the  enemy.  Death  comes  only  when  Fate  has  finished  spinning  the 
thread  of  life;  but  until  then,  let  each,  sword  in  hand,  march  stout- 
hearted behind  his  shield,  steadily  on  from  the  beginning  of  the 
battle,"  etc. 

Some  scholars  have  asked  whether  these  verses,  though  attributed 
to  Callinus,  were  not  really  the  work  of  Tyrtaeus,  whose  manner 
they  fully  recall.  But  the  question  is  a  merely  hypothetical  one. 
It  is  more  plausible  to  think  that  Tyrtaeus  was  inspired  by  Callinus. 
And  so  the  fact  would  be  explained,  that  the  elegy  of  military  life, 
first  written  at  Ephesus  on  Ionic  soil,  kept  even  in  Sparta  the  forms 
of  the  Ionic  dialect. 

3.  Archilochus.  —  Almost  contemporary  with  Callinus,  Archilo- 
chus  composed  some  elegies.  But  his  high  fame  came  chiefly  from 
his  iambic  poems.  He  is  the  earliest,  and  at  the  same  time  the  most 
illustrious,  writer  of  iambic  verse.  To  him  is  ascribed  the  honor  of 
having  invented  the  iamb ;  but  this  means  merely  that  he  was  the 
first  to  compose  great  literary  works  in  iambic  metre.  Some  placed 
him  side  hy  side  with  Homer. 

Quintilian  said  of  him:^  "His  style  has  admirable  vigor;  his 
sentences  are  robust,  terse,  penetrating;  he  is  vivid  and  spirited. 
In  genius,  perhaps  he  had  no  superior;  or  if  he  had,  it  is  due  to  the 
subjects  he  treated."  Few  of  the  losses  sustained  in  the  great  ship- 
wreck of  antiquity  are  more  to  be  regretted  than  that  of  the  poems 

1  Strabo,  XIV,  p.  647.  2  Stobaeus,  Floril  LI,  19. 

8  Quintilian,  X,  1,  59. 


Elegiac  and  Iambic  Poetry  95 

of  Archilochus.  We  have  only  short  fragments  of  his  poems ;  yet 
his  originality  was  so  marked  as  still  to  be  manifest  in  his  extant 
verses,  which  are  pure  jewels. 

He  was  born  at  Paros  in  the  first  half  of  the  seventh  century. 
The  leading  events  of  his  life  were  mentioned  in  his  iambs,  whence 
they  could  be  gleaned  by  the  scholars  of  antiquity.^  It  was  troubled, 
stormy,  and  probably  somewhat  brief.  After  losing  his  fortune,  he 
repaired  to  Thasos  to  regain  it,  and  there  made  numerous  enemies. 
He  boasts  in  some  celebrated  verses  that,  as  a  mercenary  soldier,  he 
threw  away  his  shield  while  fighting  against  Thracian  barbarians. 
The  best-known  episode  of  his  life  is  his  love  for  Neobule,  the 
daughter  of  Lycambes ;  refused  by  her  father,  the  rejected  lover 
avenged  himself  in  iambic  verses  that  brought  both  Lycambes  and 
his  daughter  to  despair.  Legend  adds  that  they  committed  suicide 
by  hanging  themselves.  He  was  killed  in  a  war  between  the  Parians 
and  the  Naxians. 

In  the  midst  of  this  variety  of  adventures,  he  wrote  poems  in 
profusion,  composing  iambs,  elegies,  and  even  hymns.  He  is  thought 
to  have  attempted  every  existing  form  of  poetry  and  not  to  have 
been  mediocre  in  any.  He  had  an  eminently  rich  nature,  endowed 
with  the  most  diverse  faculties.  Ready  in  vengeance,  often  cruel  in 
raillery,  yet  he  was  capable  of  sympathy  with  the  misfortunes  of 
his  fellow-men;  he  was  capable  of  love,  enthusiasm,  melancholy,  and 
even  argument.  Now  he  was  vexed  with  his  miseries,  and  now 
laughed  at  them.  A  rich  store  of  gayety  was  his,  almost  of  playful- 
ness, that  constantly  pleases  the  reader.  In  all  that  he  wrote,  despite 
the  diversity  of  circumstances  and  moods,  there  is  an  adroit  grace,  an 
ease,  and  a  lightness,  that  are  his  characteristic  and  peculiar  charm. 

Of  his  hymns  we  know  very  little.  Yet  we  see,  from  one  of  his 
fragments,  that  he  wrote  a  hymn  to  Demeter,  and  that  it  was  in 
iambic  verse.  This  tends  to  confirm  the  hypothesis,  stated  above, 
respecting  the  origin  of  that  verse  (p.  89).  There  is  another  frag- 
ment of  tAvo  lines  from  a  hymn  to  Heracles,  that  is  also  iambic. 
,  The  hymn  continued  to  be  famous  and  was  often  sung  at  Olympia 
two  centuries  later  in  honor  of  victors  who  had  not  time  to  wait  for 
the  composition  of  a  new  ode.^  It  was  sung  without  accompani- 
ment; an  imitative  refrain,  rrivtXXa,  took  the  place  of  the  cithara. 
His  bold,  ingenious  fancy  had  probably  borrowed  this  refrain  from 
some  popular  air  ;  and,  in  so  doing,  had  assured  its  continuance  in 
favor. 

His  elegies,  chanted  probably  at  banquets,  were  addressed  to 

1  See  especially  ^lian,   Varia  Ilistoria,  X,  lo. 

2  Pindar,  01.  X,  1,  and  the  sclioliast. 


96  Greek  Literature 

special  friends  whom  he  named.  In  them  he  mentions  his  fortunes, 
gloomy  or  bright,  seriously  or  lightly,  but  always  with  exquisite 
grace.  His  verse  and  language  have  a  charming  uimbleness,  and 
many  quick  and  unexpected  surprises.  For  the  death  of  a  brother- 
in-law  he  has  accents  of  touching  gravity.  On  the  duty  of  a  soldier 
he  speaks  like  Callinus  and  Tyrtaeus,  though  with  more  elegance. 
But  he  is  thoroughly  original  when  he  sings  of  the  life  of  a 
mercenary :  — 

"  At  the  lance's  point,  good  cakes  well-kneaded ;  at  the  lance's 
point,  the  wine  of  Ismaros ;  I  drink  it,  leaning  upon  my  lance." 

Or  when  jesting  about  his  great  misfortune,  the  loss  of  his 
shield :  — 

'■'  Some  Samian,  now,  puts  on  my  shield,  my  pretty  shield,  that 
1  threw  away,  alas !  near  a  thicket.  But  I  escaped  the  dread  hour 
of  death.  Farewell,  dear  shield  —  'tis  easy  to  buy  a  new  one  that 
will  be  dearer  still." 

I  should  be  willing  to  believe,  from  these  verses,  that  Archilochus 
was  brave,  notwithstanding  the  legend.  A  coward,  instead  of  writ- 
ing this  pleasantry  in  honor  of  his  flight,  would  have  concealed  it. 
Patriotism,  too,  was  in  no  way  concerned  in  the  matter,  as  the  event 
occurred  in  Thrace,  among  mercenaries  and  barbarians. 

His  great  claim  to  glory  rests  upon  his  iambs,  composed  at  first  in 
iambic  trimeters  or  trochaic  tetrameters,  which,  in  the  epodes,  are 
associated  with  other  metres.  Probably  most  of  these  poems,  like 
his  elegies,  were  first  chanted  at  banquets.  He  mentions  everything 
and  everybody  with  a  liberty  of  speech,  sprightliness,  and  force  of 
expression  that  are  remarkable.  Satiric  writers  are  likely  to  seem 
long  and  monotonous.  Archilochiis  is  always  natural,  and  he  ex- 
presses every  kind  of  sentiment ;  if  he  descends  at  times  to  shame- 
less coarseness,  he  rises  at  others  to  the  loftiest  morality.  He  is 
vehement,  graceful,  and  ironic  by  turns  ;  his  thrusts  may  be  fatal  or 
wholly  superficial ;  he  is  both  terrible  and  charming,  yet  always 
with  a  variety  of  sentiment,  an  abundance  of  images,  a  vivacity  of 
language,  that  remind  one  of  Aristophanes. 

He  speaks  of  Xeobule  with  pictures(iue  grace  :  — 

"  She  loved  to  adorn  herself  with  a  branch  of  myrtle  or  a  pretty 
rose  ;    and  her  hair  threw  a  shadow  on  her  shoulders  and  her  neck." 

In  a  few  words  he  expresses  the  whole  force  of  his  passion :  — 

'*  Miserable,  consumed  with  desires,  I  have  no  life  in  me ;  the 
cruelty  of  the  gods  pierces  me  with  awful  pangs,  even  to  the  marrow 
of  mv  bones." 


Elegiac  and  Iambic  Poetry  97 

After  having  made  Lycambes  an  object  of  derision,  he  pursues  him 
with  cruel  sarcasm :  — 

"  Thou  venerable  Lycambes,  what  has  been  thy  thought  ?  How 
has  thy  mind  been  distorted  ?  Surely  thou  hadst  the  force  of  rea- 
son ;  now,  before  all  the  city,  hast  thou  made  thyself  a  laughing- 
stock." 

And  elsewhere,  how  many  vivid,  picturesque  descriptions ! 
Speaking  of  rugged  and  mountainous  Thasos,  where  he  had  found 
naught  but  deception,  he  says  :  — 

"  It  is  as  scrawny  as  the  back  of  an  ass,  for  shaggy  forests  are 
its  crown." 

Then  here  is  a  very  different  passage,  with  a  judicious,  yet  ener- 
getic, moral  inspiration,  in  spite  of  the  passionate  apostrophe  of  the 
beginning :  — 

"  Arise,  my  soul,  pitiable  toy  of  countless  ills,  resist  the  wicked 
to  their  face,  and  with  the  snare  of  the  enemy  surrounding  thee,  be 
firm.  Hast  thou  won,  glory  not  in  thy  triumph;  hast  thou  lost,  yield 
not  to  sighs  of  despair.  Let  thy  joy  in  prosperity  and  thy  anger  in 
adversity  be  moderate.  Reflect  upon  the  constant  cbangefulness  of 
human  fate." 

Elsewhere  he  shows  himself  capable  of  piety:  "Leave  to  the 
gods,"  says  he,  "  thy  cares."  He  is  even  capable  of  generosity  ;  for 
though  writing,  "  Mine  is  a  great  art :  when  another  wounds  me,  I 
give  him  cruel  wounds,"  —  though  attacking  the  living  savagely,  yet 
he  wished  to  have  mercy  shown  the  dead,  "  It  is  not  Avell  to  hurl 
an  insult  at  him  who  is  no  more."  This  last  trait  rounds  off  inter- 
estingly the  image  of  the  rich  and  brilliant  writer. 
^  4.  Simonides  of  Amorgos.  —  Simonides,  born  at  Samos,  but  later  a 
citizen  of  Amorgos,  may  have  been  a  contemporary  of  Archilochus, 
and  even  older  than  he,  if,  as  Suidas  has  said,  he  was  the  leader  of 
the  Samian  emigration  that  colonized  Amorgos,  and  if  this  event  is 
to  be  put  in  693,  as  has  been  thought.  But  the  whole  chronology  is 
doubtful.  His  poetry  is  certainly  later  than  that  of  Archilochus, 
from  which  it  is  derived  ;  and  may  be  as  much  as  a  century  later. 
It  is,  besides,  of  only  secondary  merit.  If  he  wrote  elegies,  as  we 
are  told,  we  know  nothing  about  them.  What  distinguishes  him 
to-day  is,  above  all,  two  rather  important  iambic  poems;  one  of 
twenty-four  verses  on  the  miseries  of  mankind,  the  other  of  a  hun- 
dred aud  eighteen  verses  on  women. 

The  first  of  these,  a  sort  of  epistle  addressed  to  an  anonymous 
friend,  though  but  slightly  original,  does  not  lack  elegance.  Of 
greater  interest  is  its  philosophic,  generalizing  nature,   so  different 


98  Greek  Literature 

from  the  aggressive  vivacity  of  Archilochus.  It  evidently  marks  a 
new  advance  in  the  evolution  of  iambic  poetry. 

The  celebrated  poem  on  women,  though  of  satiric  character,  yet 
has  this  in  common  with  the  preceding,  that  it  contains  no  personal 
attacks.  The  thought  is  general.  He  amuses  himself  by  taKng  ten 
types  of  women  and  showing  how  their  lineage  goes  back  to  various 
animals :  one  sprang  from  the  pig,  another  from  the  dog,  another 
from  the  monkey,  another  from  the  bee.  We  see  here  the  funda- 
mental idea  of  the^Esopic  fable.  The  poem  certainly  was  success- 
ful, else  it  would  never  have  been  transmitted  to  us.  The  novelty 
of  satire  explains  the  success  it  had  in  antiquity.  It  cannot  charm 
the  modern  reader  so  much.  Such  poetry,  being  morose  in  style, 
often  lacks  delicacy  and  nice  humor:  the  jest  is  too  long  continued 
and  becomes  dull.  The  style  is  not  without  elegance,  though  some- 
what dry  and  prosaic.^ 

5.  Tyrtaeus.  —  With  Tyrtaeus,  at  least  in  the  greater  part  of  his 
productions,  we  return  to  the  military  elegy  of  Callinus.. 

His  life  is  obscured  by  legend  and  so  not  well  known.  It  is 
said  that  the  Lacedaemonians,  during  the  second  Messenian  War, 
had  asked  from  the  oracle  at  Delphi  the  means  of  bettering  the  ill- 
fortune  that  attended  their  enterprises.  On  the  advice  of  the  oracle, 
they  asked  the  Athenians  to  furnish  them  a  chief.  These  sent  them, 
in  derision,  a  lame  schoolmaster,  named  Tyrtieus.  But  to  the  great 
surprise  of  the  Athenians,  he  was  able,  with  his  elegies,  to  raise  the 
courage  of  Sparta  and  secure  her  the  victory.  It  is  not  difficult  to 
recognize  in  parts  of  the  elegies  a  facetiousness  analogous  to  that 
by  which  Aristophanes  explains  the  origin  of  the  Peloponnesian 
War.  It  seems  probable,  judging  from  the  usages  of  Sparta  at  this 
time,  and  from  certain  apparent  allusions  in  the  verses  themselves, 
that  an  oracle  had  really  been  given  the  Spartans  to  seek  abroad  for 
some  poet  who  should  end  their  discord,  after  the  manner  in  which, 
it  is  said,  Terpander  and  Thaletas  had  done;  and  that  the  Athenian 
Tyrtffius,  now  a  Spartan  by  adoption,  performed  in  his  new  country 
the  ijart,  first  of  a  peacemaker,  then  of  an  inspirer  of  warlike  cour- 
age. The  date  of  these  events,  given  approximately  by  the  second 
Messenian  War,  is  generally  })laced  between  645  and  628. 

The  poems  were  of  two  sorts :  on  the  one  hand,  military  chants 
oallt'd  ififSarypui;  and  on  the  other,  elegies. 

Tht-  ifif3aTi]pui  were  not  marches,  but  "  airs  of  attack  against  the 
enemy."  Tlie  Lacedaemonians  marched  into  battle  to  the  sound  of 
the  flute.     The  rhythm  of  these  €/i/3aT7/pta  was  anapestic,  with  an 

1  Lucian  ( Pseudol.  2)  say.s  that  Simonides  also  composed  personal  satires, 
but  we  know  iiutbin<r  about  tbem. 


Elegiac  and  Iambic  Poetry  99 

energetic,  lively  movement.  They  were  written  in  Doric,  not  in 
Ionic,  like  the  elegies.  This  Doric  was,  too,  as  in  most  works  of  a 
literary  nature,  an  artificial,  composite  dialect,  somewhat  different 
from  the  spoken  language.  A  fragment  of  six  verses,  the  longest 
we  have,  is  a  sort  of  Marseillaise,  whose  patriotism  is  all  aglow  with 
the  pride  of  race,  political  caste,  and  military  ancestry :  — 

"  Rise,  children  of  Sparta,  the  land  rich  in  heroes  ;  put  the  shield 
on  your  left  shoulder,  citizen  youths ;  hurl  boldly  the  javelin,  and 
spare  not  your  life ;  for  such  is  not  the  way  of  the  Spartans." 

The  elegies  comprise  first  a  poem  called  Eunomia,  then  a  series 
of  poems  united  under  the  term  Exhortations  ('YTro^Kai). 

The  Eunomia,  as  its  name  indicates,  was  a  eulogy  of  law  and  good 
order,  which  at  that  time,  owing  to  the  evils  of  war,  were  at  a  very 
low  ebb  in  Sparta.  We  still  have  about  thirty  verses  that  enable 
us  to  determine  some  of  its  essential  features.  The  first  is  the  noble 
inspiration  of  the  poet,  who,  to  reconcile  the  Spartans,  called  them 
away  from  their  discussions  and  forced  them  to  unite  in  veneration 
of  their  past :  Zeus  and  Apollo  are  the  founders  of  their  city ;  wise 
and  valiant  kings  have  preserved  it;  the  work  of  the  gods  and  of 
their  ancestors  must  needs  be  respected.  Another  noticeable  feature 
is  the  Homeric  air  of  the  language,  so  particularly  adapted  for 
bringing  to  mind  the  glories  of  the  past. 

The  Exhortations  are  better  known  to  us  owing  to  Stobseus  and  the 
orator  Lycurgus,  who  have  preserved  three  extracts  of  thirty  or 
forty  verses  each.  These  contain  few  or  no  myths ;  there  is  no  re- 
turn to  the  past,  nothing  but  a  vehement  summons  to  courage,  and 
striking  pictures  of  the  lot  in  store  for  the  hero  or  the  coward.  The 
contrast  between  bravery  and  cowardice  constitutes  the  essential 
motive  of  these  extracts,  and  determines  their  composition.  All 
this  is  very  simple  art.  The  style,  too,  is  of  an  open  and  frank 
simplicity.  Although  there  are  many  Homeric  turns,  there  are  but 
few  figures  of  speech,  few  efforts  to  vary  the  style  or  give  it  brill- 
iance. The  same  phrases  are  repeated  naively  or  even  carelessly : 
three  verses  on  one  page  end  with  iv  -rrpo/jLaxot^cn  ircawv  or  eV  irpofidxoia-t 
ireaovTa.  The  beauty  of  these  extracts  is  in  their  moral  and  patri- 
otic tone  rather  than  in  any  artistic  quality.  One  feels  that  the 
writer  is  a  heroic  spirit,  devoted  to  the  city,  a  citizen  soldier  whose 
heart  is  burning  with  wrath.  The  very  soul  of  Sparta  breathes  in 
the  verses.  The  poet's  imagination  can  see  and  point  out,  in  the 
living,  familiar  attitudes  of  reality,  the  hero  and  the  coward  —  the 
good  hoplite,  "  easily  seated  on  his  heels,  riveted  to  the  earth,  biting 
his  lips  " ;  and  the  miserable  captive,  despoiled,  dishonored,  vagabond, 


100  Greek  Literature 

and  mendicant.  Sparta  may  well  have  continued  to  chant  these 
noble  verses ;  Athens  herself,  in  the  days  of  Socrates  and  Xenophon, 
was  wont  to  make  her  youths  learn  them  by  heart ;  and  they  were 
recited  by  the  orator  Lycurgus  when  he  wished  to  express  the  purest 
possible  sentiment  of  valor. 

6.  Mimnermus.  —  Elegy  is  capable  of  expressing  all  the  senti- 
ments and  moods  of  life.  After  Tyrtseus  came  Mimnermus;  after 
the  rude  patriotism  of  Sparta,  the  voluptuous  and  melancholy  world- 
weariness  of  Ionia. 

Mimnermus  was  a  native  of  Colophon.  He  lived  in  the  second 
half  of  the  sixth  century.  His  fame  as  a  flute-player  seems  to  have 
been  almost  equal  to  his  fame  as  a  poet. 

The  subjects  treated  in  his  elegies  were  of  various  sorts.  Pau- 
sanias  mentions  a  poem  of  his  written  in  behalf  of  Smyrna  in  her 
war  against  Gyges,  king  of  Lydia.  A  fragment  still  preserved 
describes  a  Lydian  military  chief.  Elsewhere  the  origins  of 
Smyrna  and  of  Colophon  are  treated.  But  the  subject  Avhich  he 
preferred  above  all  and  to  which  he  was  ever  returning  was  that 
of  his  own  sentiments,  the  expression  of  his  own  love  or  melan- 
choly. H&was  original  in  giving  to  the  world  its  first  elegiac  love- 
poeais.  A  female  flute-player,  Xaiino,  to  whom  he  had  been  devoted, 
probably  found  a  place  in  a  number  of  his  verses;  for  it  seems  that 
the  collection  of  his  poems  was  early  designated  by  her  name.  We 
do  not  know  how  his  love  was  expressed.  What  we  see  in  the  frag- 
ments is  not  so  much  the  image  of  a  personal  passion  as  a  eulogy 
of  love  in  general,  and  of  youth  and  pleasure  :  — 

''What  life,  what  happiness  can  there  be  without  luxurious 
Aphrodite  ?  Might  I  perish  rather  than  lose  my  wish  for  these 
sweet  experiences,  secret  emotions,  charming  ])resences,  gay  flowers 
of  the  time  of  youth.  .  .  .  When  mournful  old  age  comes  to  make 
ugliness  and  beauty  one,  man's  heart  is  torn  with  cruel  vexation ; 
the  rays  of  the  sun  no  more  light  up  his  face ;  his  children  hate 
him  ;  women  despise  him  ;  thus  have  the  gods  made  old  age  miser- 
able." 

The  joy  of  being  young,  the  horror  of  growing  old,  this  is  the 
double  idea  that  inspired  his  most  penetrating  cadences.  "  l^etter  to 
die  than  live,"  he  is  ceaselessly  repeating.  On  the  whole,  his  verses 
are  gloomy.  Fear  of  the  future  is  as  great  an  element  in  his  think- 
ing as  joy  over  present  prosperity.  The  sentiment  of  human  frailty 
fills  him  with  deep  melancholy  :  — 

"  Like  the  leaves  brought  forth  in  the  flowery  season  of  spring, 
under  the  warming  rays  of  the  sun,  we  enjoy  for  one  brief  instant 
the  buoyancy  of   youth,  condemned  by  the   gods  to  know  neither 


Elegiac  and  Iambic  Poetry  101 

what  is  good  for  us  nor  what  is  ill ;  but  the  shadows  of  fate  hover 
round  us,  bringing  either  the  feebleness  of  age,  or  death.  The 
enjoyment  of  youth  is  but  for  a  day ;  it  lasts  only  while  the  sun  is 
shining.  When  the  term  of  youth  is  past,  life  is  less  to  be  desired 
than  shunned." 

Poet  of  ^pleasure,  yet  profoundly  intelligent,  he  pierced  to  the 
depths  of  physical  enjoyment,  and  found  it  hollow.  It  was  his 
merit  to  have  bBen'  the^ltrst '  to  state  "EhisHdrscovety  in  verses  of 
mournful  elegance,  which  Greece  never  could  forget. 

7.  Solon.  —  Solon  is  the  oldest  of  the  Attic  poets  proper ;  for 
though  Tyrtffius  was  an  Athenian  by  birth,  his  poetry- "wasT  Spartan. 
With  Solon,  the  real  spirit  of  Athens  appears  in  literature,  and  its 
essential  traits  are  seen  at  once :  equilibrium  of  the  whole  being,  in 
which  body  and  soul  live  harmoniously  together ;  in  which  brilliant 
imagination,  clever  finesse,  and  sound  reason  are  united  with  strong 
will ;  in  which  the  grace  of  Ionia  and  the  vigor  of  Sparta  are  com- 
bined with  a  justice  natural,  easy,  well-pondered,  which  thinks  well 
and  speaks  well,  without  effort  or  weakness.  The  life  of  Solon  and 
his  poetry  are  closely  linked ;  the  latter  is  always  a  reflection  of 
the  former,  and  both  are  the  product  of  the  same  intelligence.  So, 
without  studying  in  detail  his  career  as  a  statesman,  we  must  note  its 
general  character,  that  we  may  better  understand  his  work  as  a  poet. 

Solon,  son  of  Execestides,  was  born  about  640.  He  came  from 
one  of  the  most  illustrious  families  of  Athens,  that  of  the  Codrids. 
Though  of  noble  birth,  he  was  at  first  poor,  since  his  father  was 
ruined.  To  regain  his  fortune,  he  engaged  in  commerce.  He 
travelled,  and,  growing  rich,  returned  to  Athens  with  a  wide  experi- 
ence of  men  and  affairs,  having  given  proof  of  a  mind  free  from 
prejudice  and  of  a  bold  and  prudent  activity.  When  he  returned, 
about  610,  Athens  was  in  a  lamentable  condition :  at  home,  violent 
discords,  a  weak  and  tyrannical  aristocracy,  a  people  crushed  with 
debts,  a  country  emptied  by  emigration,  the  religious  and  moral 
uneasiness  due  to  consciousness  of  wrongs  —  sometimes  sacrilegious, 
such  as  the  murder  of  Cylon  —  to  which  civil  strife  had  brought 
tlie  jjolitical  factions;  and  abroad,  an  administration  so  weak  that  the 
island  of  Salamis,  in  sight  of  the  Piraeus,  had  fallen  a  prey  to  the 
]\Iegarians,  and  Athens  seemed  to  be  in  despair  of  ever  regaining 
it.  Solon  undertook  to  remedy  the  city's  ills.  He  inspired  patriot- 
ism and  confidence  by  his  verses,  and  reconquered  Salamis;  then  he 
])rought  the  Cretan  Epimenides,  a  sort  of  prophet,  a  real  physician 
for  men's  spirits,  to  reestablish  by  piirification  a  religious  peace. 
There  remained  the  quarrel  between  rich  and  poor.  Honored  Viy 
all, —  "by  the  rich  because  he  was  rich,  and  by  the  others  l)ecause 


102  Greek  Literature 

he  was  honest "  (Plutarch),  —  Solon  seemed  fitted  by  his  merit  to 
serve  as  arbiter  between  the  two  parties.  In  594  he  was  elected 
archon,  with  full  power  to  regulate  the  question  of  debts.  With 
bold  equity,  he  succeeded  in  the  difficult  task,  despite  the  surprise 
and  discontent  of  the  more  stubborn  elements  of  both  parties. 
After  a  short  period  of  resistance,  the  justice  of  his  course  was 
everywhere  acknowledged,  and  new  powers  were  delegated  to  him 
for  applying  to  the  reconstruction  of  the  laws  the  great  ability  he 
had  shown.  He  gave  Athens  a  political  constitution  and  remodelled 
her  laws  for  private  affairs.  His  whole  work  was  stamped  with 
marks  of  lucid  reason  and  intelligent  persuasiveness.  After  the 
promulgation  of  these  laws,  it  is  said  that  he  left  his  country  the 
second  time  and  made  distant  voyages,  probably  to  Asia  and  Egypt. 
Legend  brought  him  into  relation  with  CrcBSus.  He  retixrned  to 
Athens  and  lived  there  until  the  tyranny  of  Pisistratus  had  begun. 
Against  this  tyranny  he  had  struggled  in  vain  to  put  his  fellow- 
citizens  on  their  guard. 

His  poetry  was  to  be  a  faithful  echo  of  his  life  —  a  poetic  com- 
mentary, so  to  speak,  on  his  career.  We  have  now  of  his  only  about 
two  hundred  and  fifty  verses ;  but  even  in  these  fragments,  some  of 
which,  happily,  are  of  moderate  length,  one  can  follow  the  principal 
phases  of  his  activity  and  discern  the  noble  purposes  of  his  mind. 
All  the  verses,  except  four  that  come  from  a  hymn,  are  elegiac  or 
iambic.  The  iambs  are,  possibly,  a  trifle  livelier,  more  personal, 
more  familiar;  while  the  elegiac  verses  are  more  impersonal  in  char- 
acter. But  the  difference  is  slight.  In  both,  we  see  above  all  a 
spirit,  religious,  human,  highly  moral,  serious  without  pedantry, 
grave  and  gentle,  with  an  amiable  and  perfectly  natural  magna- 
nimity; then,  too,  one  feels  the  talent  of  a  great  poet,  an  imagina- 
tion bold  and  vivid,  and  a  flexible,  elegant  style,  expressing  whatever 
it  will  with  grace  and  moderation. 

The  poem  on  Salamis  was  doubtless  one  of  the  oldest.  Plutarch 
praises  its  finished  elegance.  It  had  ahvmdred  verses,  of  which  only 
eight  have  come  down  to  us.  Yet,  from  the  account  of  Plutarch, 
we  can  still  reconstruct  the  scene.  Solon  came  into  the  market- 
])lace  as  a  traveller,  wearing  a  felt  hat.  The  crowd  gathered.  He 
then  took  his  place  on  the  rock  where  ordinarily  the  herald  stood, 
and  said  :  — 

"  A  herald  come  from  lovely  Salamis  am  I ;  as  for  my  message, 
give  ear  to  my  verses  and  chants." ' 

'  Or,  perhaps  better.  "Verses  and  sonps  are  the  wares  I  bring"  {Kbcfiov 
iiriwv  t^5^v  T  avr'  dvopTjs  64n£uo%).  The  herald  referred  to  seems  to  have  been 
the  crier  who  sold  merchandise  in  the  a'lopd. 


V. 


Elegiac  and  Iambic  Poetry  103 

Slowly  his  ingenious  raillery  gave  place  to  eloquence.  After  a 
picture,  possibly,  of  the  guilty  indifference  of  Athens  and  her  com- 
ing disgrace,  he  cried  out :  — 

"  Oh,  that  I,  then,  changing  my  fatherland,  might  be  a  citizen  of 
Pholegandros  or  Sicinos !  For  this  rumor  will  pass  from  mouth  to 
mouth :  the  man  is  an  Athenian,  one  of  these  deserters  of  Salamis." 

And  the  elegy  closed  with  the  warlike  cry  :  — 

"  Advance  !  On  to  Salamis  !  Let  us  fight  for  the  charming  isle, 
and  put  disgrace  far  from  us." 

Certain  verses,  indeed,  recall  Tyrtaeus ;  but  in  the  work  as  a  whole 
there  was  an  active  nimbleness  and  a  variety  of  tone  that  were  truly 
Attic. 

Several  of  his  elegies  were  on  the  miseries  that  had  preceded  his 
reforms.  These  were  the  Exhortations  (YTroOrJKat),  to  use  the  title  by 
which  Suidas  mentions  them.  A  long  extract  (forty  verses,  possibly 
a  complete  elegy)  has  been  preserved  by  Demosthenes  (F.L.  286  ff.), 
who  found  in  it  an  admirable  picture  of  the  evils  caused  by  bad  men 
in  the  state.     The  beginning  presents  a  very  pleasing  picture :  — 

"Our  country  need  not  fear  the  will  of  Zeus  nor  the  thoughts  of 
the  happy  immortals.  The  great-hearted  goddess  watches  over  it: 
Pallas  Athene,  daughter  of  an  almighty  father,  stretches  her  arm  out 
over  the  city." 

The  evils  of  Athens  are  due,  not  to  the  gods,  but  to  men.  The 
leaders  of  the  peojjle,  the  nobles,  are  possessed  by  an  insatiable  love 
of  riches,  and  do  not  shrink  from  injustice  to  acquire  wealth.  The 
poet  speaks  with  hardy  frankness  ;  but  in  his  language  there  is  no 
violence  or  bitterness  that  one  could  attribute  to  personal  motives. 

It  is  in  the  name  of  truth,  right,  public  safety,  and  divine  justice 
that  he  speaks.  He  is  a  sage,  a  man  of  piety,  and  a  patriot,  not  a 
mere  partisan.     The  close  is  of  great  beauty :  — 

"  Such  is  the  instruction  that  my  heart  bids  me  bring  to  the 
Athenians.  Disdain  of  law  has  filled  the  state  with  evils.  Where 
law  reigns,  it  produces  order  and  harmony,  and  restrains  the  wicked. 
Tt  smooths  the  rough  places,  stifles  pride,  quenches  violence,  and 
nips  misfortune  in  the  bud.  Tt  straightens  crooked  ways,  subdues 
haughtiness,  and  represses  sedition.  Tt  tames  the  fury  of  baleful 
discord;  and  so  men's  affairs  are  brought  into  harmony  and  reason." 

An  admirable  iambic  passage,  mentioned  with  praise  by  Aristotle, 
in  his  Constitution  of  Athens,  is  on  Solon's  laws  for  debt.  The  mort- 
gages that  once  caused  thraldom  of  the  soil  had  disappeared.  The 
old  owners  had  returned  to  their  estates.     This  led  to  great  joy  and 


104  Greek  Literature 

also  to  great  anger.     Solon,  with  sublime  inspiration,  calls  Earth  her- 
self, the  august  goddess,  to  witness  :  — 

"  There  will  render  me  testimony  before  the  throne  of  justice  the 
great  mother  of  the  two  Olympic  gods,  the  dark  Earth,  a  slave  at  one 
time,  but  now  free.  From  her  I  took  away  the  bounding  lines  that 
had  been  put  upon  her  in  the  days  of  yore.  I  have  brought  back  to 
Athens,  their  fatherland,  founded  by  the  gods,  many  Athenians  who 
had  been  sold,  legally  or  illegally.  Some  Avere  reduced  by  necessity 
to  speak  the  language  of  oracles,'  no  longer  knowing  Attic,  men  who 
had  wandered  long  over  the  earth.  Others,  subject  at  home  to  shame- 
ful servitude,  trembling  before  their  masters,  I  have  set  at  liberty. 
This  have  I  accomplished  with  strong  hand,  using  both  force  and 
justice,  and  have  fulfilled  my  promises.  I  have  framed  laws  secur- 
ing justice  for  the  miserable  and  for  the  humble,  dispensing  to  all  a 
just  equity.  Another  man,  Avicked  and  covetous,  had  he  taken  the 
spur  in  his  hand,  would  not  have  held  in  check  the  people.  Had  I 
consented  to  do  what  mine  adversaries  were  demanding  .  .  .  {here 
follows  a  mntilated  verse),  the  city  would  have  been  deprived  of  many 
citizens.  But  my  head  have  I  tossed  to  every  side,  like  a  wolf  in  a 
pack  of  homids." 

His  elegies  are  moral  poems  ^)ar  excellence,  and  known  not  only 
from  rather  numerous  fragments,  but  also  from  an  extract  of 
seventy-six  verses,  which  Avas  probably  a  complete  elegy.  It  has 
been  preserved  by  Stobteus.  The  poet  begins  AA'ith  an  invocation  to 
the  ]Muses,  imploring  them  for  prosperity,  glory,  and  riches,  accom- 
panied withal  by  justice.  Else  fatal  calamity  (drrj,  the  misery  sent 
by  the  gods)  delays  not  its  approach :  — 

.  "It  commences  little,  like  the  fire;  at  first  nothing,  it  becomes 
at  last  an  enormous  evil.  Works  of  violence  have  no  lasting 
existence,._  Zeus  sees  the  issue  of  all  that  is.  As  the  breeze  of 
spring  quickly  scatters  the  clouds  ;  and,  having  tossed  the  Avaves  of 
the  iinfruitful  ocean  and  SAvept  over  the  rich  ])lains  of  the  fertile 
earth,  mounts  suddenly  to  the  lofty  abode  of  the  gods,  to  the  bare 
sky,  and  l)rings  to  the  sight  of  mortals  the  sj)lendor  of  heaven :  the 
mighty  sun  sheds  on  the  rich  earth  its  brilliant  rays  and  not  a  cloud 
is  to  be  seen ;  thus  does  the  vengeance  of  Zeus  break  forth.'' 

Calamity  does  not  have  the  Aveary  impatience  of  epliemeral  ]nen. 
Failing  to  visit  the  guilty  man  him.self.  she  comes  upon  his  chil- 
dren ;  yet  slie  comes  surely  (tJXvOc  TrdvTw^  uvOn).  Here  the  poet 
draws  an  ample  picture  of  the  numerous  occupations  by  Avhich 
humanity  seeks  to  attain  riches.  F>ut  do  Avhat  he  Avill,  man  is  in 
the  hands  of  the  gods. 

Other  elegies,  of  Avhich  Ave  have  only  some  fcAv  verses,  treat  of 
pleasure  in  all  its  forms,  and  sometimes  Avith  a  liberty  of  language 

'  In  Arisintlo.  '■  Urired  on  bv  dire  necessitv.'" 


Elegiac  and  Iambic  Poetry  105 

rather  ancient  than  modern.  The  poet  is  no  ascetic  ;  he  is  a  Greek 
of  the  sixth  century,  who  puts  pleasure  among  the  gifts  of  the  gods, 
and  asks  no  more  of  human  nature  than  that  it  follow  its  inclinar. 
tions  with  temperance  and  rea§Qii.  Even  in  his  old  age,  according 
to  Plutarch,  he  still  wrote :  -- 

"  I  love  now  the  works  of  Aphrodite,  Dionysus,  and  the  Muses, 
as  sources  of  delight  for  men." 

Elsewhere  he  addresses  Mimnermus  and  gently  chides  the  old 
master  of  elegy  for  having  wished  to  die  as  young  as  sixty;  he 
urges  him  to  change  his  verse  and  say :  "  May  the  Fate  of  Death 
attend  me  when  I  am  eighty  years  of  age."  Solon  must  then  have 
been  an  old  man,  amiable  and  smiling.  It  is  doubtless  the  time 
when  he  wrote  also :  "  I  grow  old  learning  daily  some  new  fact." 
It  was  always  the  same' active,  alert  reason~and' the  same  studious 
philosophy,  opposed  to  despair  as  well  as  to  injustice,  that  clung 
faithfully  to  his  old  age. 

The  Greeks  regarded  him  as  one  of  the  Seven  Wise  Men:  an 
excellent  master  in  morals  and  practical  affairs,  as  they  understood 
the  term.  No  one  could  more  justly  represent  than  he  their  equi- 
librium of  spirit,  or  their  combination  of  successful  action  and 
speech  with  the  serenity  of  a  nature  as  richly  endowed  for  political 
life  as  for  the  peaceful,  elegant  profession  of  poesy. 
'^  8.  Theognis.^ — Bat  Greek  elegy  is  full  of  contrasts,  and  so 
Theognis  of  Megara  is  quite  different;  for  the  poetry  of  Solon  is 
harmonious  and  serene,  while  that  of  Theognis  is  biting  and  pas- 
sionate. Both  lived  in  the  midst  of  civil  discords;  but  though  the 
one,  in  the  benevolent  loftiness  of  his  thought,  rose  above  it  as  a 
judge,  the  other  engaged  in  it  with  all  his  might,  inflicted  and 
suffered  wounds,  and  felt  strong  hatred.  One  loved  to  clothe  him- 
self with  confident,  optimistic  piety ;  the  other  showed  his  vexation 
at  the  gods,  or  at  least  his  great  astonishment  at  not  I)e"iiig"l3etter 
able  to  imderstand  their  justice. 

Theognis  is  said  to  have  lived  in  the  middle  and  latter  half  of 
the  sixth  century.^  Megara,  his  fatherland,  was  then  a  prey  to  the 
turbulent  struggles  between  the  aristocrticy  and  the  democracy. 
He  was  noble  in  birth.  He  had  seen  his  party  first  dominant,  then 
vanquished.  Poverty  and  exile  had  fallen  to  his  lot.  Possibly  at 
the  end  of  his  life  he  came  back  to  ^Megara. 

It  was  in  the  midst  of  these  agitations  that  he  composed  his 

1  Text  of  Theognis  by  Sitzler,  IIeidclber<r,  1H80. 

-  This  is  based  on  Suidas  (Qioyvts)  and  St.  Jerome  {Chron.,  01.  50,  1)  ;  but. 
the  passages  are  much  (questioned  by  modern  scholars. 


106  Greek  Literature 

elegies.  Many  appear  to  have  been  addressed  to  friends  whose 
names  are  found  in  the  fragments  still  extant.  And  so  we  may- 
suppose  that  the  elegy  early  tended  to  become  a  kind  of  epistle. 
Most  of  Theognis's  elegies  were  addressed  to  a  young  noble,  Oyrnos, 
the  son  of  Polypaos,  possibly  a  relative  of  his.  Owing  to  his  per- 
sonal experience  and  superior  age,  he  felt  himself  called  upon  to 
give  his  young  friend  advice.  He  taught  him  about  life  almost  as 
Hesiod  had  taught  his  own  brother  Perses  in  the  Works  and  Days. 
Hence  the  didactic  and  gnomic  character  of  his  work  and  the  abun- 
dance of  moral  maxims  which  constituted  his  peculiar  personality. 
Therefore  when  the  Athenians  came  to  organize  the  curriculum  of 
their  youth,  the  adoption  of  the  works  of  Theognis  among  the  poems 
to  be  studied  was  quite  natural.  There  remained  only  the  task  of 
separating  the  generalized  maxim  from  the  context,  as  this  seemed, 
from  a  pedagogic  point  of  view,  either  useless  or  vexatious.  Such 
extracts  were  made  later,  and  hence  not  only  do  we  have  more  verses 
of  his  than  of  any  other  elegiac  poet,  but  also  they  are  more  frag- 
mentary. In  all  we  have  about  fourteen  hundred  verses.  It  is  easy 
to  see  too,  that  the  scholastic  and  practical  use  of  the  collection,  no 
less  than  its  piecemeal  state,  induced,  so  to  speak,  the  insertion  of 
extraneous  passages.  Transitions  and  similes  naturally  slipped  in, 
and  his  collection  of  poems  gradually  became  an  elegiac  anthology. 
Some  of  these  extraneous  verses  are  easy  to  recognize  even  to-day  ; 
a  few  can  be  restored  to  their  true  authors ;  others  can  only  be  sus- 
pected. In  short,  if  one  cuts  away  from  the  whole  about  sixty 
undoubtedly  apocryphal  verses  and  admits  that  the  great  majority 
of  the  remainder  are  authentic,  there  is  little  chance  of  being  mis- 
taken. By  prudently  confining  oneself  to  the  passages  whose  authen- 
ticity is  guaranteed  by  the  name  of  Cyrnos,  or  by  some  very  original 
turn  of  thought,  one  gets  a  fairly  exact  idea  of  his  poetry. 

The  burden  of  his  teaching  to  Cyrnos  is  just  what  tradition  had 
given.  He  intends  no  innovation,  and  thinks  himself  an  innovator 
in  no  way  whatever. 

"What  I  myself  learned  from  honest  people  in  my  childhood 
that,  Cyrnos,  is  the  wisdom  I  teach  thee." 

In  fact  he  preaches  the  old  Greek  morality :  piety  toward  the 
gods,  respect  to  parents,  the  moderation  that  flees  from  pride  and 
restrains  itself  from  violence.  And  herein  there  is  nothing  to  dis- 
tinguish him  sharply  from  other  Greek  moralists. 

Nevertheless,  the  originality  of  his  nature  and  his  true  spirit  are 
seen  when,  passing  from  abstract,  traditional  precept  to  the  direct 
contemplation  of  the  real  world,  he  receives  with  mournful  sensi- 


JElegiac  and  Iambic  Poetry  107 

bility  the  shock  of  contact  with  that  world,  and  utters  the  cry  of 
his  exasperated  passion. 

Life  is  full  of  evils.  At  Megara,  particularly,  it  is  odious.  The 
rabble  is  a  cowai-dly  troop,  worthy  of  scorn  and  hatred :  — 

"  Strike  with  your  heel  the  wretched  rabble,  prick  it  with  the 
point  of  the  spur,  hang  a  heavy  yoke  about  its  neck ;  for  nowhere 
among  all  the  men  upon  whom  the  sun  looks  down  will  you  find  a 
people  so  submissive  to  servitude."  ^ 

The  aristocracy,  too,  with  its  petty  craving  for  money,  increases 
the  confusion  of  classes  and  the  general  disorder :  — 

"When  we  select  a  ram,  an  ass,  or  a  horse,  Cyrnos,  we  have 
regard  to  race  and  demand  noble  pedigree.  But  when  it  comes  to 
marriage,  a  man  of  good  descent  espouses  a  slovenly  creature,  the 
daughter  of  a  sloven,  if  only  she  bring  him  a  rich  fortune.  .  .  . 
Riches  destroy  the  purity  of  races ;  and  then,  Cyrnos,  marvel  not  if 
the  race  of  the  Megariaus  decline ;  good  and  bad,  all  is  pell-mell." ' 

Money  rules  and  corrupts  all.  Fortune  being  the  principal  thing, 
the  poor  man  has  no  longer  good  birth,  virtue,  nor  beauty ;  he  is 
scorned.  The  poet  is  not  easily  exhausted  on  the  subject  of  poverty  ;  .^ 
he  speaks  of  an  evil  he  has  himself  experienced.  That  for  which  he 
censures  it  is  not  so  much  the  sum  of  the  physical  sufferings  it 
brings,  as  the  fact  that  it  destroys  a  man's  self-esteem  and  makes 
him  a  slave  :  — 

"More  than  all  else,  Cyrnos,  poverty  crushes  the  honest  man; 
more  than   hoary  age,  more  than  fever.     In   seeking  to  escape  it,        x 
fear  not,  Cyrnos,  to  plunge  into  the  deep  sea,  nor  into  the  devouring  \ 

whirlpool.     Better  die,  if  one  be  poor,  than  let  one's  life  be  eaten  ; 

away  by  horrid  misery."  ^  -  '^ 

Solon,  in  like  misfortune,  thought  it  wiser  to  recover  himself  by 
commerce.  He  had  confidence,  however,  in  the  justice  of  Zeus. 
But  Theognis  is  almost  in  doubt  about  the  gods  :  — 

"  0  Zeus,  Friendly  One,  thou  dost  fill  me  with  amazement.  What  I  ~ 
Thou  art  the  king  of  the  earth,  rich  in  honor  and  power ;  thou 
knowest  well  the  heart  and  purpose  of  every  man;  thy  power,  O 
King,  is  supreme.  How,  then.  Son  of  Cronus,  can  thy  thought  con- 
sent to  consider  equal  the  evil  and  the  good,  those  whose  mind  is 
inclined  toward  justice  and  those  who,  obedient  to  iniquity,  devote 
themselves  to  violence  ?  "  * 

In  certain  moments,  he  despairs  and  calls  on  death :  — 

''  Happy,  thrice  happy  he  who  descends  in  peace  into  the  dark 
abode  of  Hades,  never  having  trembled  before  his  enemies,  never 

1  w.  846-849.  a  w.  183  ff.  »  w.  173  ff.  *  vv.  373  ff. 


108  Greek  Literature 

having  bowed  before  necessity/  never  having  put  to  test  the  affec- 
tion of  his  friends."  * 

Elsewhere  he  speaks  of  his  thirst  for  vengeance :  — 

"  He  who  has  suffered  great  injustice  waxes  smaller;  but  when 
he  has  avenged  himself,  he  grows  anew."  ^ 

"  Flatter  thine  enemy  with  words ;  and  when  he  is  in  thine  hand, 
strike  him  and  search  not  for  a  pretext."* 

"  0  that  I  might  quaff  their  dark  blood ;  and  that  some  propi- 
tious deity  would  watch  and  aid  me  to  accomplish  this  my  wish."  * 

But  he  would  not  be  a  Greek  if  he  were  not  capable  of  express- 
ing also  the  sweet  side  of  life,  the  pleasure  of  youth,  the  delight  of 
the  mind  in  banquets,  with  their  song  and  conversation.  Sometimes 
he  shows  tenderness  ^  and  spirit.'  But  even  in  the  eulogy  of  pleas- 
ure, he  calls  up  willingly  the  idea  of  death,  with  a  force  of  expres- 
sion sportive  as  well  as  eloquent :  — 

"  I  enjoy  the  sweet  pleasantries  of  youth ;  for  after  that,  beneath 
the  earth,  when  I  shall  have  given  up  my  life,  long  shall  I  lie,  quiet 
as  a  voiceless  stone,  far  from  the  beautiful  light  of  the  sun ;  and 
then,  though  good,  I  shall  no  more  see  aught."  * 

In  all  these  passages  there  is  the  striking  originality  of  the  thinker 
and  the  poet.  This  misanthropist,  this  pessimist,  writes  in  a  vigorous 
and  pungent  style.  He  scarcely  has  the  brilliant  imagination  which 
is  the  toy  of  artistic  fancy ;  yet  he  often  shows  the  vivid  imagina- 
tion due  to  passion,  such  as  that  found,  for  example,  in  a  vehe- 
ment orator  like  Demosthenes.  His  thought  readily  adapts  itself 
in  maxims  to  the  exact  length  of  the  distich ;  but  as  soon  as 
the  thought  has  ceased  to  be  a  maxim,  it  exceeds  this  measure, 
and,  with  the  free  movement  characteristic  of  ancient  elegy,  goes 
on  and  on  without  scruple.  He  really  knew  that  he  was  an  artist. 
He  wrote  his  own  name  in  the  prologue  of  his  elegies  that  men 
might  not  be  tempted  to  take  from  him  the  honor  of  their  composi- 
tion ;  *  and  in  another  poem  he  promised  Cyrnos  the  glory  which 
come.s  from  beautiful,  immortal  verse.'" 

9.  Phocylides.  —  The  Milesian  Phoeylides,  according  to  Suidas, 
was  a  contemporary  of  Theognis.  We  know  nothing  of  his  life ; 
but  the  memory  of  his  verses  appears  to  have  been  well  preserved 
in  antiquity.  He  is  no  longer  an  author  of  elegies  proper,  but  a 
gnomic  writer  in  the  strictest  sense.  He  loves  to  incorporate  moral 
observations  and  precepts  in  verses  or  detached  distichs.     These  are 

^  Tlie  text  of  this  verse  is  in  dispute.  °  w.  .340-.S.>0.  ^  vv.  ')67-570. 

■  vv.  101.';-101G.  c  vv.  VM\.  655-056.  »  vv.  19-2.3. 

3  vv.  ;30 1-303.  7  V.  303.  ^^  vv.  237-252. 

4  vv.  .304-305. 


Elegiac  and  Iambic  Poetry  109 

generally  elegiac ;  but  he  used  also  pure  hexameter.  He  had  the 
rather  singular  practice  of  writing  his  name  at  the  head  of  each  of 
his  maxims :  almost  all  began  thus,  —  koL  toSc  4>a)KvA.iS£w.  It  is 
rather  the  method  of  a  versifier  than  that  of  an  inspired  poet.  His 
extant  fragments  contain  nothing  remarkable  ;  they  are  concise,  sen- 
sible, and  judicious  rather  than  deep  or  brilliant.  The  most  cele- 
brated of  his  sayings  is  the  often  imitated  one :  — 

"  This  too  sayeth  Phocylides :  the  men  of  Leros  are  despicable. 
It  is  not  simply  one  here  and  there  that  happens  to  be  bad,  but  the 
whole  people  —  except  Procles ;  and  Procles  is  a  man  of  Leros." 

Here  we  see  the  elegiac  distich  assuming  the  form  of  epigram.  To 
this,  accordingly,  we  must  now  devote  a  word. 

10.  The  Epigram.  —  Etymologically  an  epigram  is  an  inscription. 
Two  sorts  of  monuments  particularly  made  the  use  of  inscriptions 
popular  in  Greece:  first  the  tombs,  and  then  the  offerings  made  to 
divinities  in  their  temples.  Without  accepting  as  authentic  certain 
ancient  inscriptions  in  verse  mentioned  by  Herodotus  as  contem- 
porary Avith  the  heroic  age,^  it  is  certain  that  the  use  of  metrical 
inscriptions  began  early.  Archiloclius  composed  some  in  elegiac 
verse.  The  use  of  the  elegiac  distich  for  epigram  was  a  literary 
windfall ;  the  distich  is  the  form  best  suited  to  these  little  composi- 
tions. It  incorporates  and  emphasizes  the  thought  perfectly ;  it  is 
a  polished  locket  thoroughly  appropriate  to  the  expression  of  a  short, 
elegant  idea.  In  the  time  of  which  we  are  speaking  the  epigram 
was  not  yet  satiric,  except  in  a  few  cases  :  it  was  simple  and  natural, 
with  something  of  firmness  and  breadth  in  the  design,  which  gave 
it  now  and  then  the  beauty  of  an  Athenian  or  a  Syracusan  medal. 

iVIany  well-known  poets  wrote  e})igrams.  The  most  famous  one 
was  Simonides  of  Ceos,  some  of  whose  epigrams  are  of  great  beauty. 
Under  his  name  we  have  more  than  eighty,  but  they  are  not  all 
authentic ;  his  very  excellence  brought  about  the  attribution  to  him 
of  spurious  compositions.  Among  his  epigrams,  many  have  only  the 
merit  of  simplicity  and  exactness  in  giving  proper  names  and  ex- 
yjressing  things  difficult  of  incorporation  in  a  distich.  Others  have 
real  elegance.  The  most  beautiful  contain  somti  great  moral  thought 
wliic'li  the  very  brevity  of  the  expression  makes  more  striking.  The 
Persian  Wars,  for  example,  mightily  inspired  him.  He  represents 
these  two  admirable  verses  as  spoken  by  the  heroes  slain  at  Ther- 
mopylae, to  be  inscribed  on  their  monument : 

"  Stranger,  at  Sparta  tell  to  passers-by. 
That  here,  obedient  to  her  laws,  we  lie."  - 

1  Herodotus,  V,  .j'.i.  -  Simonides,  fr.  92. 


110  Greek  Literature 

There  are  other  verses,  apparently  in  honor  of  the  dead  heroes  of 
Plataea :  — 

"  To  crown  their  country  with  inextinguishable  glory,  these  men 
were  clad  in  the  sombre  vestment  of  death ;  but  even  in  death,  they 
are  not  dead ;  for  lo !  their  valor,  glorifying  them,  lifts  them  to  the 
skies  from  the  dark  abode  of  Hades."  * 

The  epigram  reached  its  perfection  with  Simonides.  During  the 
two  centuries  that  followed,  it  preserved  the  same  character  of 
breadth  and  simplicity  with  elegance,  yet  never  became  a  literary 
type  of  the  first  order.  One  must  reach  the  Alexandrian  period  to 
see  it  cultivated  universally,  and  clothed  with  an  elegance,  if  not 
more  splendid,  at  least  more  studied  and  refined. 

11.  Hipponax.  —  There  remains  to  be  mentioned  at  the  close  of 
this  period  an  iambic  poet,  the  Ephesian  Hipponax,  who  earned  fame 
chiefly  by  the  invention  of  the  choliambic  verse,  or  iambic  scazon 
(a-Ka^wv,  halting).  It  is  an  iambic  trimeter  whose  last  iamb  is  re- 
placed by  a  spondee.  The  use  of  this  new  metre  evidently  marked 
a  new  inspiration,  a  taste,  however,  really  somewhat  coarser.  The 
author  of  the  Treatise  on  Oratory,  Demetrius,  speaking  of  certain 
things  pleasing  in  themselves  (the  roses,  the  nymphs,  marriage  rites), 
says  that  they  would  be  so  even  in  the  mouth  of  Hipponax :  that 
shows  well  enough  how  trivial  and  crude  his  inspiration  was.  Men 
said  he  was  petty  and  counterfeit ;  and  besides,  he  was  poor.  His 
bad  humor  was  made  the  subject  of  explanations,  tliough  it  had  a 
certain  gayety.  We  cannot  now  judge  the  matter  for  ourselves,  as 
the  fragments  are  rare  and  short.  His  historic  importance  comes 
particularly  from  the  return  of  favor  which,  in  the  Alexandrian 
epoch,  was  given  anew  to  the  form  of  verse  that  he  had  invented  and 
that  we  see  illustrated,  for  example,  in  the  mines  of  Herondas. 

But  from  the  eighth  to  the  fifth  centuries,  whatever  may  have 
been  the  grandeur  of  Archilochus,  Solon,  or  Theognis,  neither  the 
iamb  nor  the  elegy  had  the  first  place  in  the  poetic  literature  of 
Greece.  That  belongs  to  melic  poetry,  and  above  all  to  clioral  melic 
poetry,  as  this  realized  the  artistic  ideal  of  contemporary  Greeks 
more  fully. 

1  Simonides,  fr.  94. 


1  CHAPTER   VIII 

MELIC   POETRY 

1.  The  Poetry  called  Melic.  2.  Lesbos  and  the  Semi-popular  Lyric.  3.  The 
Scolia  of  Terpander.  4.  Alcaeus.  6.  Sappho.  6.  Anacreon.  7.  The  so- 
called  Anacreontic  Poems.  8.  The  Polite  Lyric  :  General  View.  9.  Thaletas. 
10.  Alcman :  the  Parthenion.  11.  Arion :  the  Dithyramb.  12.  Stesich- 
orus:  the  Heroic  Hymn  and  the  "Triad."  13.  Ibycus :  the  Encomium. 
14.  The  Great  Masters  of  Choral  Lyric  Poetry  :  Simonides.  15.  Pindar. 
16.  Bacchylides.     17.  Lesser  Poets.^ 

1.  The  Poetry  called  Melic.  —  The  Greeks  gave  the  name  "  melic  " 
(jiekLKo.  TTOLrifjuaTa,  ix^Xr])  not  only  to  the  poetry  accompanied,  like  the 
iamb  or  the  elegy,  by  notes  on  the  flute  or  the  iainhyce,  which  were 
easily  detached  from  it  and  destined  soon  to  disappear  completely : 
but  also  to  that  which  was  essentially  musical,  and  served  as  a  sup- 
port for  a  regular  chant,  monodic  or  choral,  often  constructed  to  guide 
the  dance  of  a  chorus. 

There  was  a  considerable  body  of  this  lyric  poetry ;  and  during 
the  three  centuries  from  Terpander  to  Bacchylides  it  was  the  prin- 
cipal literary  creation  of  Greece.  It  is  far  removed  from  us  and 
sometimes  difficult  to  understand,  owing  not  only  to  the  small 
amount  still  extant  and  its  mutilation,  but  also  to  the  nature  of  its 
artistic  processes,  its  ideas,  and  its  inspiration,  which  are  widely 
different  from  our  own.  Its  literary  value  is  as  great  as  its  histori- 
cal importance  ;  and  the  effort  to  come  to  understand  it  is  well  worth 
the  making. 

We  have  already  seen  that  numerous  lyric  types  could  be  reduced 
to  a  few  principal  groups.  Writers,  indeed,  generally  distinguish 
the  poetry  sung  by  a  single  voice  (song,  light  ode)  from  the  poetry 
sung  by  a  chorus  (choral  ode),  the  lirst  form  being  that  which  flour- 
ished j)articularly  at  Lesbos  and  is  found  in  Anacreon,  the  second 
marking  the    lyric  of    the  Dorians.     The   distinction,  with  certain 

1  Bibliography:  General  edition  of  the  lyric  poets :  Bergk,  Poeta:  Lyrici 
Grceci,  Leipsic,  4th  ed.,  1878.  General  edition  of  the  lyric  poets  except  Pindar 
and  the  recently  discovered  poems  of  Bacchylides:  Ililler,  Anthologia  Lyrica, 
Teubner,  1899.  Extracts  from  the  lyric  poets  :  Sinytli,  Greek  Melic  Poetry, 
London,  1900.  Particular  editions  of  Pindar  and  Bacchylides  will  be  mentioned 
later  in  connection  with  the  sections  devoted  to  the  poets. 

Consult  the  histories  of  Greek  lyric  poetry,  especially  Flach,  Tubingen, 
1884  ;  and  Nageotte,  Paris,  Gamier,  1888-1889. 

Ill 


112  Greek  Literature 

necessary  reservations,  might  be  accepted ;  but  the  reservations  are 
important,  too,  for  the  Lesbians  also  often  used  choral  poetry  ;  and 
certain  Doric  hymns  may  have  been  rendered  by  a  single  singer. 
The  distinction  between  a  monody  and  a  choral  ode,  accordingly,  is 
not  fundamental.  It  would  be  more  exact  to  distinguish  between  an 
elementary  lyric  (monodic  or  choral),  belonging  to  the  Lesbians  and 
to  Anacreon,  Avhich,  by  the  simplicity  of  its  language  and  musical 
structure  was  closely  allied  with  popular  inspiration ;  and  the  com- 
plex, ornate  lyric,  cultivated  first  at  Sparta,  then  throughout  the 
Doric  world,  and  eventually  in  every  part  of  Greece. 

A.  —  The    Semi-popular   Lyric 

2.  Lesbos  and  Lyric  Poetry.  —  Lesbos  was  the  home  of  the  simple, 
familiar  lyric,  as  yet  scarcely  free  from  its  popular  origin.  The 
island  was,  as  it  were,  predestined  to  this  by  nature.  We  have 
seen  that  it  received  at  an  early  age  the  musical  traditions  of  Thrace. 
Its  proximity  to  Asia  brought  it  into  relations  with  other  musical 
forms  no  less  rich.  It  was  inhabited  by  a  people  naively  sensuous, 
pleasure-loving,  unpolitical,  and  little  disciplined,  among  whom  life 
,  seems  to  have  preserved  its  rustic  character,  and  thought  never 
restrained  imagination.  Popular  lyric  composition  is  said  to  have 
flourished  there  in  all  periods.  When  Terpander,  himself  a  Lesbian, 
had  established  the  music  for  the  cithara,  native  artists  began  to 
appear  who  applied  his  musical  inventions  to  the  different  forms  of 
lyric  poetry  and  contributed  a  style  unknown  among  the  village 
bards.  The  festal  ode,  the  love  song,  tlie  threnody,  the  marriage 
I  hymn,  and  the  hymn  to  the  gods  were  cultivated  by  real  artists,  yet 
with  the  fondness  for  simplicity  that  suited  a  primitive  people. 
Hence  a  very  peculiar  art  arose,  at  once  delicate  and  simi)le,  with- 
out solemnity  or  great  boldness  or  depth  of  inspiration,  but  teeming 
with  rustic  ingenuity  and  grace. 

This  simplicity  is  seen  in  the  style  and  in  the  metrical  form  of 
the  Lesbian  odes.  We  shall  speak  of  tlie  style  in  connection  with 
each  poet ;  but  we  must  note  here  the  general  character  of  the  dialect. 
If  the  words  are  frequently  poetic,  the  form  given  tliem  is  that  of  the 
dialect  spoken  in  Lesbos.  In  this  period  tlie  closer  a  Greek  poet 
clung  to  poj)ular  inspiration,  the  more  attached  he  was  to  a  local 
dialect.     And  tlie  Lesbian  poets  were  no  exception  to  the  rule. 

As  to  metrical  form,  a  Lesbian  ode,  regardless  of  its  subject  or 
autlior,  is  a  suceession  of  quite  similar  stroplies,  generally  short  and 
very  simple  in  sti'ucture.  Three  or  four  members  (KwXa),  in  which 
dactyls  are  mingled  with  trochees,  form  a  strophe.     The   strophic 


Melic  Poetry  113 

arrangements,  unlike  those  of  the  great  Doric  poets,  do  not  vary 
with  each  poem,  but  have  only  a  small  number  of  types  and  these 
almost  fixed.  The  principal  ones  are  those  called  the  Alcaic  strophe 
and  the  Sapphic  strophe,  from  the  names  of  the  poets  who  were 
thought  to  have  invented  them  —  or  who,  more  strictly,  used  them 
most.^  Such  strophes  are  well  suited  to  monody.  In  the  poems 
designed  for  the  chorus,  such  as  the  hymeneals  of  Sappho,  probably 
also  in  the  paeans,  there  was,  following  popular  tradition,  a  refrain 
after  a  short  strophe.  The  rhythm  of  these  chants  seems  to  have  t^ 
been  generally  trochaic;  the  dactyl  was  doubtless  reduced  to  the 
time  of  the  trochee,  though  by  a  method  which  Ave  do  not  fully 
understand.  The  ancients  called  the  rhythm  of  the  strophes  of 
Alcaeus  and  Sappho  logaoedic  ;  but  the  precise  sense  of  this  word 
is  doubtful,  and  perhaps  we  should  not  seek  to  define  it  too  rigor- 
ously. We  do  not  even  know  whether  it  rests  on  an  exact  under- 
standing of  the  rhythm  itself,  or  comes  from  the  conjecture  of  later 
authorities  on  metre. 

3.  The  Scolia  of  Terpander.  —  Terpander  was  said  to  have  written 
some  scolia  (a/cdA.ia)  or  festal  odes.  The  type  of  the  scolion  was 
kei)t  throughout  antiquity ;  and  like  other  types  of  great  longevity, 
it  was  much  modified.  In  Pindar  it  became  an  ornate  poem  ;  at 
Athens  it  retained  more  of  its  popular  character.  The  word  ctkoXlov 
is  certainly  the  same  as  the  adjective  o-koXios,  "  oblique,"  the  differ- 
ence of  accent  proving  the  Lesbian  origin  of  the  type.  What  con- 
stituted the  "  obliqiieuess  "  of  this  ode  ?  Possibly  the  capricious 
order  in  which  the  guests  took  turns  in  rendering  it,  each  one  follow- 
ing his  predecessor  with  a  verse  or  couplet.  At  all  events,  if 
Terpander  really  wrote  scolia,  he  deserves  to  head  the  list  of  the 
Lesbian  v/riters  of  light  lyric  odes  or  lays,  liut  we  know  of  nothing 
of  tlie  sort  in  his  writings,  and  it  is  rather  with  Aleieus  and  Sappho 
that  we  must  begin  to-day  the  study  of  tliis  lyric  type. 

'  The  following  examples  are  taken  from  Horace,  who  imitated  the  poets 
of  Lesbos  :  — 

Alcaic  Strophi' 
Vides  ut  alta  stet  nive  candiduni 
Soracte.  nee  jam  sustineant  onus 
Silvae  laborantcs.  jjeliKiue 
Flumina  constilerint  acuto. 

Siipphir  S'tmplu' 
Kertius  vives,  Licini.  neque  altum 
Si-mper  urpendo,  neijue,  dum  procdlas 
Cautus  horre.scis.  nimium  premendo 
Litus  iniquum. 

The  difference  between  Horace  and  the  Lesbian  jjoots  is  that  the  latter,  at  the 
end  of  the  verse,  were  freer  in  their  use  of  the  rules  of  prosody. 


114  Greek  Literature 

'  4.  Alcaeus.  —  This  poet  was  born  at  Mitylene  about  640,  and 
;«^/'  belonged  to  an  aristocratic  family.  The  history  of  Mitylene  at  this 
time,  like  that  of  many  Greek  cities,  was  filled  with  civil  discord. 
This  ended  in  the  establishment  of  despotism ;  Mitylene  bowed  to 
tyrants.  When  they  had  been  driven  out  by  Pittacus,  the  people 
gave  their  rescuer  a  dictatorship  for  ten  years.  Alcaeus  always  took 
sides  with  the  opposition,  and  part  of  his  life  was  passed  in  exile. 
We  conclude  from  one  of  his  verses  that  he  died  at  a  ripe  old  age ; 
^  he  demands  that  perfumes  be  sprinkled  ''  on  his  head,  tried  in  many 
misfortunes,  and  on  his  aged  breast."^  In  these  few  words  he  gives 
a  touching  and  true  summary  of  his  career. 

In  the  midst  of  his  adventures  he  found  opportunity  to  become  a 
great  poet.  His  own  life  was  his  inspiration  ;  his  political  animosities, 
his  friendships,  his  pleasures,  his  sutferings,  filled  the  larger  part  of 
his  verse.  He  composed  at  least  ten  books,  including  political  songs, 
chants  of  love,  scolia,  and  a  few  hymns.  Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus  ^ 
and  Quintilian^  praise  his  great  boldness  and  brevity,  his  combinar 
tion  of  force  with  grace,  the  variety  of  his  figures,  and  his  clearness. 
His  political  songs  in  particular  were  worthy  of  a  "golden  plectrum," 
in  the  judgment  of  Quintilian  ;  and  Dionysius  praised  his  oratorical 
vigor,  because  it  reminded  him  of  the  rostrum.  Of  all  this  j^oetry, 
unfortunately,  we  have  only  fragments;  and  many  of  these  are 
insignificant  because  of  their  brevity.  Only  a  small  number  enable 
us  to  judge  of  him  as  an  author. 

In  the  fragments  of  political  songs,  we  do,  indeed,  find  the  vigor 
noted  by  the  ancient  critics;  but  what  strikes  us  particularly  is  the 
sometimes  savage  violence  of  the  passions  animating  them.  Lesbian 
ardor  is  present  in  its  fulness.  Neither  Solon  nor  even  Theognis 
sang  of  civil  war  in  such  a  tone.  The  death  of  the  tyrant  Myrsilus 
drew  from  him  this  outcry  of  fierce  joy  :  — 

"  Now  should  we  revel  in  wine,  now  should  we  drink  to  intoxica- 
tion, since  Myrsilus  is  dead."  ^ 

The  longest  of  the  fragments  is  taken  up  with  the  description  of 
a  dwelling  in  which  men  are  making  ready  for  a  combat.  If,  as 
seems  certain,  the  combat  is  against  the  opposing  political  party, 
never  was  more  childishly  abominable  enthusiasm  inspired  by  the 
civil  discords. 

*'  The  great  hall  shone  with  the  gleam  of  bronze.  All  was  in 
readiness  for  Ares.  Here  were  brilliant  helmets,  above  whose  tops 
waved    white    plumes  like   horses'    manes  —  an   ornament   for   the 

1  Fr.  42,  Bergk.  s  j^gt.  Or.  X,  1,  63. 

^  Critique,  on  the  Ancient  Writers,  8.  <  Fr.  20. 


Melic  Poetry  115 

warriors'  heads.  From  hooks  in  the  walls,  all  round  the  room,  hung 
brilliant  greaves  of  bronze  —  a  rampart  against  stout  arrows.  New 
cuirasses  of  flax  were  there.  Hollow  shields  covered  the  ground. 
Here  were  the  swords  of  Chalcis,  and  here  the  kilts  and  girdles. 
These  let  us  not  forget,  now  that  we  have  undertaken  this  enter- 
prise." ^ 

Another  and  a  more  poetic  fragment  is  the  one  in  which  he  com- 
pares civil  strife  with  a  tempest.  The  comparison  itself  is  by  no 
means  rare,  but  the  merit  of  Alcaeus  is  in  the  blending  of  simple 
expression  with  picturesque  strength :  — 

"  I  cannot  understand  the  tjonflict  of  the  winds.  On  this  side  and 
on  that,  the  wave  of  water  rushes  on,  and  we,  in  the  midst  of  all, 
tossed  about  in  our  dark  ship,  suffer  grievously  from  the  great  storm. 
The  foot  of  the  mast  is  in  bilge-water ;  the  sail  hangs  all  in  shreds 
and  the  sail-ropes  are  untied."  ^ 

There  is  the  same  frank  accent  in  the  scolia.  Politics  is  still 
sometimes  the  theme:  one  fragment  is  directed  against  Pittacus. 
But  what  seems  to  have  had  the  principal  place  in  these  poems  is 
the  jollity  of  the  tippler  who  loves  wine  and  banquets  as  he  hates 
Myrsilus,  with  all  his  heart  and  with  no  compunctions.  In  Alcaeus, 
there  is  generally  little  to  divine  ;  his  spirit,  though  at  times  gracious 
and  even  refined,  is  wholly  unreserved.  If  he  wishes  a  pretext  for 
drinking,  he  is  never  at  a  loss.  Athenseus,  even,  noticed  this  ;  what- 
ever the  season,  whatever  the  circumstances,  it  is  always  for  Alcaeus 
the  occasion  of  refilling  his  cup :  — 

"  Let  us  drink ;  for  the  sun  is  in  the  zenith."  ^ 

"Zeus  is  passing  into  rain;  the  sky  is  letting  winter  loose;  the 
streams  of  water  are  congealed.  .  .  .  Pour  out  the  wine  unsparingly 
—  wine  sweeter  than  honey."  * 

And  so  on  in  every  season  and  on  every  occasion.  In  a  clever 
passage  he  imitates  a  famous  bit  from  Hesiod  on  the  heat  of  noon- 
day/ and  shows  his  power  of  originality  in  some  personal  touches, 
with  an  art  both  comprehensive  and  definite,  and  with  exquisite 
grace." 

Love,  too,  occupied  him  much  :  "  Though  warlike  of  heart,"  says 
Horace,^  "  he  loved,  in  the  very  midst  of  combat,  or  when  he  brought 
his  wind-tossed  bark  to  the  shore,  to  sing  of  Bacchus  and  the  Muses 
and  Venus  and  her  ever  present  son."  Grave  Quintilian  regretted 
that  Alcffius,  being  capable  of  higher  themes,  should  so  often  have 
descended  to  sports  and  amours  little  worthy  of  his  talent.     Alcaeus 

1  Fr.  1.5.  8  Fr.  40. 

2  Fr.  18.     Some  of  the  details  in  the  reading  are  dispnted.  *  Fr.  34. 
6  Hesiod,  Works,  582-687.               «  yt.  39.                •  Odes.  I,  32. 


116  Greek  Literature 

sang  of  beauty ;  and  according  to  Greek  usage,  this  was  the  beauty 
of  young  men  as  often  as  that  of  young  women.  His  pictures  were 
naively  passionate,  and  a  severe  judge  might  censure  them ;  but  it  does 
not  appear  that  they  were  gross.  In  the  few  verses  now  extant,  the 
dominating  passion  is  love  of  charm  and  grace.  Two  verses  at  the 
beginning  of  a  poem  which  he  addressed  to  his  rival  Sappho  are 
admirable  for  their  combination  of  ardor  and  reserve.  The  ode 
as  a  whole,  though  to-day  lost,  must  have  been  exquisite :  — 

"  Pure  Sappho,  you  with  hair  that  breathes  of  violets,  lady  sweetly 
smiling,  something  I  have  to  say  to  you ;  but  modesty  restrains  me."  ^ 

And  Sappho  replied,  with  a  finesse  truly  feminine:  — 

"  If  you  had  a  wish  for  the  beautiful  and  the  good,  if  your  tongue 
meant  to  put  forth  no  base  word,  then  would  shame  not  cover  your 
cheeks,  and  you  would  simply  speak  your  thought."  ^ 

Of  the  hymns  of  Alcseus  we  possess  very  little.  But  we  can  see 
that  the  metres  closely  resembled  those  of  the  odes.  We  know,  too, 
that  in  one  of  these  poems,  the  Hymn  to  Apollo,  Alcseus  related  at 
length  some  Delphic  legends  :  he  spoke  of  the  departure  of  Apollo 
for  the  country  of  the  Hyperboreans ;  then  of  his  return,  when  all 
nature  celebrated  his  festivities:  the  birds  sang  " as  they  can  sing 
inAlcaeus"  —  to  quote  Hinierius;^  first  the  nightingales  and  then 
the  swallows ;  with  the  birds,  the  crickets ;  and  even  the  fountain 
of  Castalia,  with  its  silver  waves,  joined  in  the  delight  of  nature. 
^—Exquisite  grace  and  passion  —  these  constitute  Alcwus. 

5.  Sappho.''  —  One  could  say  almost  as  much  of  Sappho;  yet  if 
the  passion  of  Alcseus  is  usually  one  of  politics,  that  of  Sappho  is 
wholly  one  of  love  ;  and  her  grace  is  perhaps  still  finer  and  more 
subtle  than  that  of  her  great  rival. 

Of  the  life  of  Sappho  very  little  is  known.  She  was  contem- 
porary with  Alcseus,  living  at  the  end  of  the  seventh  century  and 
the  beginning  of  the  sixth.  Born  probably  at  Eresos,  she  si)ent  most 
of  her  life  at  Mitvlene.  She  siiffered  exile,  for  her  noble  birth 
evidently,  about  the  same  time  as  Alcseus,  and  betook  herself  to 
Sicily.'^  Her  two  brothers  were  mentioned  by  name  in  her  verses ; 
one  of  them,  Charaxus.  having  conceived  a  passion  for  the  courtesan 
Rhodoj)is,  Sappho  attacked,  in  a  spirited  ode,  Ijoth  the  courtesan  and 
her  wayward  brother.*'     Various  stories  tell  us  that  she  married  and 

1  Fr.  .'.-,.  2  Sappho,  fr.  28.  ^  r),..  XVT.  10. 

^  There  i.s  a  text  of  tlie  fragments  of  Sappho,  publi.shed  with  translation,  by 
Wharton.  London.  1887. 

5  The  Chronicles  of  Faros,  51.  «  Herodotus,  III,  135. 


Melic  Poetry  117 

that  she  had  a  daughter  named  Cleis.  The  stories  are  not  impossible ; 
but  the  same  cannot  be  said  respecting  legends  that  represent  her  as 
enamored  of  the  beautiful  Phaon,  and  as  jumping  from  the  precipice  u.{ 
of  Leucadia.^  These  are  mere  inventions  of  Greek  comedy.  One 
can  give  no  more  credence  to  the  traditions  that  represent  Sappho 
as  having  been  a  woman  of  dissolute  manners.  Because  she  sang 
much  of  love,  men  attributed  to  her  all  its  follies,  without  even 
distinguishing  between  the  passions  depicted  in  her  Epithalamia, 
and  those  which  she  may  have  felt  herself.  The  truth  is  probably 
much  less  romantic.  Sappho  was  above  all  a  poetess.  She  kept  a 
school  of  lyric  poetry  in  which  young  girls  were  trained  to  recite 
Iier~yongs.  Rival  schools  of  like  character  are  mentioned  in  her 
verses.  For  the  women_  at^  Lesbos  enjoyed  a  degree  of  liberty  such 
as  was  scarcelj-  known  in  later  Greece.  In  the  schools  of  poesy,  n/ 
among  the  feminine  artists,  there  naturally  arose  ardent  friendships  •' 
as  well  as  hatreds  and  jealousies.  All  this  we  find  in  Sappho's 
verse.  Attic  comedy  made  sport  of  it  and  travestied  the  truth  as  it 
chose.  And  that  Sappho  herself  sometimes  felt  the  passions  she  so 
eloquently  pictured  we  need  not  deny.  What  is  certain  is  that,  if  she 
had  had  the  ill  repute  sometimes  ascribed  to  her,  the  Mitylenians 
would  not  have  asked  her  to  celebrate  in  nuptial  odes  so  many  legiti- 
mate unions,  nor  would  they  have  continued  to  give  her  the  honors 
of  which  Aristotle  speaks.'  Her  real  literary  glory,  however,  is  not 
at  all  obscured  and  is  beyond  discussion. 

Sappho's  poems  formed  in  ancient  times  nine  books,  including 
odes  in  various  metres,  epithalamia,  elegies,  and  hymns.  We  should 
have  only  the  debris  of  them,  if  Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus  and 
Longinus  had  not  had  the  happy  thought  of  citing  two  odes  almost 
entire.^  The  variety  in  her  poems  seems  to  have  been  in  form  rather 
than  in  subjects  ;  for  really  Sapplro  is  above  all  the  extoller  of  love  and 
beauty.  What  does  change  in  the  poems  is  the  occasion  for  love  and 
the  nature  of  the  sentiment  connected  with  it,  which  are  now  more 
personal  and  now  more  general,  now  joyous  and  now  sad.  And  hence 
arise  the  changes  of  rhythm,  which  denote  a  polished  and  delicate 
art.  The  lord  of  her  thought  is  always  Eros,  whom  she  sings  about 
with  an  original,  exquisite  blending  of  passion,  artlessness,  and  grace. 

The  beauty  of  which  she  sings  is  ever  smiling  and  sweet ;  it  is 
rather  that  of  lovely  Aphrodite  than  that  of  majestic  Athene.     "  0 

^  [On  the  Lencadian  Rock  and  its  significance,  consult  Menander,  X(vk., 
fr.  1  ;  Anacreon,  fr.  19;  Strabo,  X,  2,  8  and  1»  (p.  452).  — Tr.] 

2  lihct.  II,  p.  1308,  B.  12,  Bekker. 

3  To  these  two  odes  must  be  added  a  third  (four  mutilated  strophes),  re- 
cently found  on  papyrus  {Oriirrhynchus  Papyri,  v.  1,  n.  8),  which  seems  to 
have  been  addressed  to  Charaxus,  tlie  brother  above  mentioned. 


118  Greek  Literature 

pure,  rosy-armed  Graces,  daughters  of  Zeus,"  ^  is  the  language  of  one 
of  her  odes.  Philostratus,  apropos  of  this,  notes  that  Sappho  has  a 
decided  preference  for  the  rose,  constantly  extolling  it  and  loving  to 
compare  with  it  the  prettiest  of  her  companions.  "  Her  verses,"  says 
Demetrius,  "  are  full  of  love,  halcyons,  and  spring-time."  Even  the 
toilet-table  did  not  seem  superfluous  to  her.  She  makes  fun  of  a  rival 
who  does  not  know  how  elegantly  to  arrange  the  folds  of  her  dress.'* 
To  another  she  said :  "  Wax  not  proud  over  a  mere  ring."  *  What 
more  feminine  trait  than  this  love  of  flowers  and  of  splendid  and 
well-adorned  beauty? 

The  charm  of  this  beauty  throws  Sappho  into  an  ecstasy  sometimes 
merely  pleasing  and  sometimes  violent.  In  the  mutilated  state  of 
her  extant  verses,  we  cannot  always  tell  whether  it  is  she  who  speaks 
or  whether  she  represents  some  lover  as  speaking ;  but  it  matters  little ; 
for  whether  she  sings  in  her  own  name  or  in  that  of  a  personage 
more  or  less  fictitious,  it  is  always  from  her  own  heart  that  she  sings ; 
and  the  heart  living  in  her  verses  is  ardent  and  passionate :  — 

"  I  am  all  aflame  with  longing." 

"  Love  tortures  me,  weakening  my  very  frame ;  both  sweet  and 
bitter  is  it,  and  a  monster  indomitable." 

"  Love  sways  my  soul  like  the  mountain  wind  that  falls  upon  the 
oaks."  * 

The  spirit  of  Sappho  shows  especially  in  the  following  passage, 
where  the  sweetness  of  the  images  in  the  first  verses  makes  so 
marked  a  contrast  with  the  highly  colored  picture  of  intense  emo- 
tion in  the  last :  — 

"  He  who  sits  before  thee  seems  like  the  gods  to  me ;  and  from 
very  near  thee,  he  hears  thy  voice,  so  sweet, 

**  So  sweet  thy  pretty  smile,  that  melts  my  heart  within  ray  breast. 
At  sight  of  thee,  my  voice  fails  me, 

"  My  tongue  dries  up,  a  subtle  fire  creeps  along  beneath  my  skin, 
my  sight  is  troubled  and  my  ears  ring ; 

"  I  am  damp  with  perspiration  ;  a  tremor  seizes  my  whole  being ; 
my  face  is  pale  as  the  withered  grass,  and  I  feel  myself  at  the  point 
of  death."  ^ 

These  admirable  verses,  imitated  by  Theocritus,  translated  by 
Catullus,  and  then  by  Racine,  have  continued  to  be  the  eternal 
type  of  that  violent,  profound  love,  which  takes  possession  of  the 
whole  being,  affects  it  to  the  marrow,  and  becomes  akin  to  torture. 

The  Ej)ithalam>a  appear  to  have  had  an  important  place  in 
Sappho's    work.     Judging   from    the   extant    fragments,    they   con- 

1  Fr.  65  ;  Dem.  Uepl  'Epfitvda^.  166.  in  Spengel.  Rh.  Gr. 

2  Fr.  TO.  3  Fr.  35.  *  Frs.  23,  40.  42.  *  Yv.  2. 


Melic  Poetry  119 

tained  less  of  passion  than  the  other  odes,  but  more  of  naive 
picturesqueness.  In  no  other  verse  did  Sappho  come  so  close  to 
popular  song.  With  consummate,  but  discreet,  cleverness,  she 
reproduced  its  short,  but  almost  childlike  expressions,  its  repeti- 
tions of  words,  its  resumptions,  its  apparent  hesitations,  sometimes 
its  rather  coarse  gayety ;  and  all  this  in  short  metres,  mingled  with 
refrains.  Her  pleasantries  about  the  country  bridegroom  and  the 
doorkeeper  at  the  wedding  were  celebrated.  Of  the  latter,  she 
said :  — 

"  The  doorkeeper's  feet  are  seven  fathoms  long ;  and  his  sandals 
are  made  of  five  layers  of  ox-hide.  Ten  cobblers  toiled  to  make 
them."  ^ 

The  same  simplicity,  so  like  the  spoken  language,  is  found  in  the 
following  passage,  in  which  she  gayly  sets  forth  the  tallness  of  the 
bridegroom :  — 

"  Raise  the  ceilings  of  the  house, 

O  Ilymenseus, 
Raise  them  high,  ye  carpenters, 

0  Hymenaeus, 
The  bridegroom  comes,  as  tall  as  Ares, 

O  Hymenseus, 
Taller  than  a  stalwart  man, 

O  Hymenseus.  "2 

Elsewhere  she  compares  a  young  bride  to  a  pretty  fruit,  a  sweet, 
ripe  apple,  blushing  deeply  at  the  top  of  the  tree. 

"  By  the  fruit-pickers  wast  thou  forgotten.  Forgotten  ?  Nay, 
rather  they  could  not  reach  thee."^ 

The  correction  has  very  naive  charm. 

One  more  translation  must  be  given  before  dismissing  the  subject. 
It  is  that  of  the  fine  ode  cited  by  Dionysius,  which  is  almost  a  sum- 
mary of  Sappho's  art,  her  emotion,  grace,  elegance,  and  sparkling 
and  pure  winsomeness :  — 

"  Goddess  on  the  shining  throne,  immortal  Aphrodite,  daughter 
of  Zeus,  skilled  in  cunning:  let  not,  I  pray  thee,  0  Goddess,  ray 
lieart  succumb  to  my  calamity  and  suffering. 

*'  Come  to  me,  as  thou  earnest  of  yore  on  hearing  my  petition,  when 
thou  didst  leave  the  golden  palace  of  thy  father  to  come  to  me. 

''  Thy  car  was  drawn  by  swift,  pretty  s])arrows ;  and  above  the 
dim  earth,  their  wings  threshed  the  air  with  urgent  stroke,  bearing 
thee  from  the  sky  through  the  realm  of  ether. 

"  Witliout  delay  were  they  present.  And  thou,  Happy  One,  smil- 
ing with  thy  lips  immortal,  didst  ask  me  my  troubles  and  wherefore 
I  had  called  thee; 

1  Fr.  98.  2  pr.  91  (following  Bergk).  »  Fr.  93. 


<> 


120  Greek  Literature 

"  And  what  wishes  my  feverish  heart  was  cherishing.  '  Whom 
wouldst  thou  gain  for  thy  affection  ?  Who  makes  thee  suffer,  my 
dear  Sappho  ? 

" '  She  who  now  flees  from  thee,  very  soon  shall  seek  thee ;  though 
she  refuse  thy  presents,  to  thee  will  she  devote  herself ;  even  if  she 
love  thee  not,  soon  shall  she  love  thee,  despite  herself.'  ^ 

"  Come  then  to-day  again ;  withdraw  from  me  my  anxious  care ; 
fulfil  the  wishes  of  my  heart,  and  come  thyself  and  help  me."^ 

Sappho  was  much  in  vogue  among  the  Alexandrians,  and  espe- 
cially was  imitated  by  Theocritus.  Her  childlike  and  somewhat 
designed  charm,  and  her  elegant,  sober  dignity,  are  just  the  qualities 
that  would  be  liked  by  an  overrefined  age.  There  is,  however,  in 
her  poetry  more  of  genuine  simplicity,  more  that  is  childlike,  than 
in  her  imitators ;  and  this  quality  constitutes  her  peculiar  excellence.^ 

6.  Anaereon.  —  The  real  successor  of  the  Lesbian  poets  is  the 
Ionian  Anaereon.  He  too,  is  a  singer  of  love,  but  with  more  polished 
elegance;  and  sometimes  intellect  supplants  passion   in   his  work. 

He  was  born  at  Teos,  about  the  middle  of  the  sixth  century,  and 
passed  ])art  of  his  life  at  Samos,  with  the  tyrant  Polycrates  ;  and  part 
at  Athens,  with  Hipparchus,  the  son  of  Pisistratus.  After  the  death 
of  Hipparchus,  by  assassination,  in  514,  Anaereon  probably  took  refuge 
in  Thessaly,  with  one  of  the  great  princely  families  of  that  land. 
He  died  in  age  —  at  eighty-five  according  to  the  pseudo-Lucian  ;  *  in 
several  of  his  verses  he  himself  mentions  his  old  age,  and  tradition 
represents  him  ordinarily  with  the  features  of  an  old  man.  One  or 
two  of  his  fragments  show  that  at  some  time  in  his  life  he  bore 
arms ;  he  tells,  probably  in  imitation  of  Alcajus  and  Archilochus, 
how  he  fled,  leaving  his  shield  behind.  The  incident,  in  part  at 
least  imaginary,  refers  to  the  time  of  his  youth,  when  Teos,  his 
fatherland,  was  invaded  by  the  Persian  general  Harpagus  (545). 
At  any  rate,  there  is  nothing  of  the  professional  soldier  in  Anaereon, 
nor  of  the  mercenary  adventurer ;  he  was  a  court  pQgt,  fond  of 
pleasure,  who  spent  half  a  century  crowning  himself  with  roses, 
.singing  of  love  and  wine,  and  then,  keeping  to  the  end  his  frolicsome 
good  humor,  continued  in  the  memory  of  men  as  the  ideal  of  amiable, 
brilliant  cleverness. 

In  the  Alexandrian  epoch  his  works  formed  five  books.  Only 
very  short  fragments  are  extant,  almost  all  being  bits  of  love  songs 

1  KovK  id^Xovffa,  as  given  in  Rersrk.  ^  yv.  1. 

3  Sometimes  the  ancients  named,  besides  Sappho,  another  poetess,  Erinna, 
whom  thoy  called  her  friend  and  pupil.  Erinna  was  the  author  of  a  miniature 
epic,  the  Distaff  (three  hundred  verses),  of  which  little  remains.  The  pretended 
relations  f>f  Sappho  and  Erinna  are  wholly  legendary  ;  the  Distaff  has  the  appear- 
ance of  being  a  much  later,  possibly  an  Alexandrian,  poem. 

*  Macroh.  20. 


Melic  Poetry  121 

and  festal  ballads.  However,  he  composed  elegies  also,  and  epi- 
gi-ams,  and  perhaps  a  few  hymns.  But  the  inspiration  of  all  his 
poems,  not  even  excepting  the  hymns,  was  like  that  of  the  odes. 
The  hymns  were  said  to  have  been  composed  rather  for  social  than 
for  religious  festivals,  and  to  have  lacked  gravity.  The  tyrant* 
Poly  crates,  who  kept  the  poet  so  long  at  the  royal  court,  was  an 
unscrupulous  adventurer,  though  refined  in  his  tastes  —  something 
like  the  Italian  princes  of  the  Renaissance.  In  this  brilliant,  but 
not  too  moral,  world,  Anacreon  was  perfectly  at  ease. 

"  I  wish  to  sing  of  the  delicious  Eros,  the  god  with  abundant, 
floral  crowns.  He  is  the  master  of  the  gods,  the  subduer  of  man- 
kind." ^  . 

ldv#-  %'$ 

This  is  the  tone,  and  one  might  say,/thejtheology^  Ajiacreon, 
On  the  throne  of  Zeus,  half  serious  and  half  smiling,  luxurious  Eros 
sits,  and  there  plays  king  of  the  world  —  king  still  powerful,  and  not 
without  majesty.  The  Eros  of  Anacreon  is  high  above  the  petty 
Eros  of  the  Alexandrians,  who  is  no  more  than  god  of  the  boudoir. 
Anacreon's  Eros  is  forceful  and  inspires  fear :  — 

"  Eros,  like  a  butcher,  has  struck  me  with  his  great  cleavers,  and 
thrown  me  into  the  turbulent  current  of  the  stream."  ^ 
''  The  toys  of  Eros  are  delirium  and  insanity."  ^ 

Elsewhere  he  speaks  of  leaping  from  the  precipice  of  Leucadia, 
which  in  the  ecstasy  of  his  passion,  he  is  ready  to  approach.*  But 
we  must  not  be  deceived;  the  poet's  jest  shines  out  through  the  vio- 
lence of  the  language.  The  leap  in  Leucadia  probably  never  killed 
any  one  —  at  least,  not  for  being  a  lover.  Anacreon  is  not  one  of 
those  who  die  of  love ;  it  is  evident  enough  from  his  verses  that  he 
must  have  been  refused  more  than  once. 

His  poetry,  though  sometimes  quite  free,  is  more  often  delicate 
and  graceful  :  — 

"  Eros,  the  god  with  the  golden  hair,  hit  me  with  a  purple  ball, 
and  invited  me  to  play  with  the  young  girl  who  wore  the  broidered 
sandals ;  but  she,  as  her  home  is  in  pretty  Lesbos,  at  sight  of  my 
white  hairs,  made  them  a  reproach  to  me,  and  scorning  me  with  her 
lips,  turned  to  another."^ 

There  is  much  charm  in  this  gentle,  indulgent,  smiling  grace.> 
The  same  tone  is  found  in  these  reproaches  given  to  a  young  girl :  — 

"  Thraeian  filly,  why  thy  look  askance  ?  and  why  thy  rapid  flight  ? 
Takest  thou  me  to  be  an  awkward  horseman  ? 

1  Fr.  05.  2  pr.  47.  ^  y^_  4(3.  4  Yu  19.  &  Fr.  14. 


122  Greek  Literature 

"  Know  well  that  I  can  bridle  thee  adroitly  and,  rein  in  hand,  can 
make  thee  turn  the  goal  of  the  race-course. 

"  Thou  runnest  across  the  prairie;  light  and  bounding,  freely  thou 
sportest ;  for  thou  hast  not  yet  met  the  horseman  who  can  tame  thee."  ^ 

W  This  is  all  elegant,  yet  scarcely  equal  in  seriousness  and  passion 
to  some  of  the  verses  of  Sappho  which  we  have  cited. 

It  would  seem  that  Anacreon  had  lent  his  art  to  the  expression 
of  the  sentiments  of  Polycrates  rather  than  to  the  expression  of  his 
own.  In  certain  poems  he  was  a  lover  only  in  the  capacity  of  a 
solicitor,  ^lian,  on  the  ground  that  the  amours  of  Polycrates  were 
often  reprehensible,  praises  him  for  his  conduct ;  the  apology,  to  say 
the  least,  is  whimsical.  Anacreon's  chief  moral  merit  —  if  one  may 
speak  in  such  matters  of  any  moral  merit  —  is  first,  his  hatred  for 
the  consent  that  can  be  purchased  with  money,^  and  then  his  taste 
for  beauty,  which  kept  him  from  unworthy  actions,  and  made  him 
seek  everywhere  a  measure  of  elegance. 

Some  railleries,  or  satires,  were  incorporated  into  the  verses  of 
Anacreon  in  praise  of  pleasure.  The  clever  poet  knew  how  to  deride 
while  smiling,  and  that  with  a  light  yet  sure  hand.^  Such  playful 
satire,  however,  is  rare.  He  said  of  himself :  "  My  songs  are  pleas- 
ing, and  pleasing  are  my  words."  *  And  he  was  right.  The  gentle- 
ness of  his  songs  recalls  Sappho,  with  whom  he  is  sometimes  compared. 
The  difference  between  them,  however,  is  considerable  both  in  style 
and  in  matter.  Sappho's  style,  though  simpler,  has  more  brilliance 
at  times  and  bolder  relief.  In  Anacreon,  excepting  always  the  neces- 
sary reservations,  the  dominating  tone  is  gracefully  prosaic,  trick- 
ling and  insinuating  its  way  witli  a  fluidity  distinctly  Ionic.  Not  only 
is  Anacreon's  dialect  ordinarily  Ionic  (except  for  a  few  Doric  and  ^Eolic 
phrases  that  are  matter  of  literary  imitation),  but  the  general  move- 
ment of  his  thought  has  the  suppleness  and  easy  grace  by  wliich  the 
lonians  were  ordinarily  characterized.  We  may  note,  too,  without 
pressing  the  matter,  the  simple,  lively,  light  brevity  of  Anacreon's 
rhythms,  which  do  not  appear  to  have  borrowed  from  his  predecessors 
either  the  Alcaic  or  Sapphic  stroplie,  but  which  in  their  place  con- 
tributed some  fine  equivalents.. 

7.  Anacreontic  Poems.  —  Singularly  enough,  the  thing  that  has 
done  most  to  give  Anacreon  his  reputation  among  the  moderns  is  a 
small  collection  of  poems  in  the  authorship  of  which  he  was  not 
concerned.  They  were  composed  in  the  Alexandrian  epoch  or  the 
Koman  period,  by  amateurs  writing  in  his  style.  These  poets  had 
no  intention  of  deceiving  posterity :  they  were  simply  clever  men 

1  Fr.  75.  8  See,  for  example,  fr.  21,  against  Artemo. 

2  Fr.  33.  *  Fr.  45. 


Melic  Poetry  123 

yho  made  the  imitations  for  their  own  amusement.  But  posterity 
was  deceived,  and  that,  too,  for  a  long  time.  For  the  poems,  once  so 
highly  esteemed  and  now  perhaps  too  little  prized,  are  not  at  all 
inferior.  The  ballads  called  Love  Dampened  and  the  Grasshopper 
have  a  true  charm  ;  and  the  poem  that  gave  rise  to  the  highly  popu- 
lar theme :  — 

"  Would  I  were  the  mirror,  that  thy  glance  might  rest  upon  me ; 
Would  I  were  the  water,  that  I  might  bathe  thy  limbs,"  etc. 

as  a  pretty  love  song,  even  in  an  apocryphal  ode,  could  not  well  be 
spared.  Then,  it  is  interesting  for  us  to  see  in  these  verses  the  idea 
that  certain  poets  had  of  Anacreon,  while,  doubtless,  they  still  read 
his  verses  to  gather  the  inspiration  of  his  Muse. 

B.  —  The  Ornate  Lyric 

8.  General  View.  —  We  have  already  noticed  ^  how  great  was  the 
importance  of  the  ornate  choral  lyric  in  the  artistic  life  of  Greece 
during  two  or  three  centuries.  This  lyric  is  a  true  child  of  the 
city.  In  order  to  understand  it,  one  must  bear  the  relationship 
constantly  in  mind.  Social  life,  such  as  it  existed  in  the  Greek 
city,  was  what  furnished  the  occasion  for  its  employment,  the 
subjects  which  it  treated,  the  sentiments  animating  it,  and  the 
resources  necessary  to  render  it  adequately.  We  have  already  men- 
tioned the  principal  types  of  the  ornate  lyric.  These  types  corre- 
sponded to  the  various  manifestations  of  religious  or  social  life  in  the 
city,  and  always  to  manifestations  of  a  public  or  semi-public  sort  : 
festivals  to  gods,  heroes,  princes,  or  even  private  individuals,  pro- 
vided that  numbers  of  citizens  joined,  or  were  interested  or  asso- 
ciated, in  them.  The  theme  of  the  ornate  lyric  is  the  mythical  or 
historical  past  of  the  city,  the  emotions  felt  by  the  collective  spirit 
of  tlie  people.  The  poet's  individual  ideas,  necessarily  rare  in  an 
epoch  when  tradition  still  held  sway  over  men's  minds,  have  no  need 
to  be  expressed.  His  personality  is  veiled.  He  is  the  voice  of  tlie 
community.  Even  the  personality  of  the  master  of  the  feast,  if  it 
is  in  honor  of  some  private  individual,  tends  to  lose  itself  in  the  col- 
lective personality  of  his  race  or  the  political  party  to  which  he 
belongs.  The  sentiments  and  passions  of  the  individual  are  noth- 
ing compared  with  the  emotions  of  all.  If  the  individual  chanced 
to  forget  this,  the  whole  setting  of  the  feast  would  remind  him  of  it, 
beginning  with  the  chorus  which  was  to  sing  the  ode.  This  was 
composed  of  citizens  —  of  young  men  or  young  women,  often  from 

1  Chap.  \l,  5. 


> 


124  Greek  Literature 

the  foremost  families  of  the  city.  So  everything  tended  to  the  same 
end  —  to  the  expression  of  a  collective  sentiment,  under  a  musical 
and  poetic  form  which,  by  its  grandeur,  nobility,  and  gravity,  should 
answer  to  the  solemnity  of  the  circumstances. 

Just  as  the  lyric  poetry  of  Lesbos  or  of  Anacreon  was  simple  in 
form,  so  this  poetry  was  to  be  rich  and  magnificent.  The  first  had 
a  short  strophe,  regular  metrical  combinations,  a  style  almost  popu- 
lar, and  a  strictly  local  dialect.  In  this  poetry,  however,  the 
strophes  are  infinitely  amplified  and  diversified ;  the  style  becomes 
more  and  more  brilliant;  and  the  local  dialects  were  gradually  elimi- 
nated and  replaced  by  a  literary  language  of  Doric  character,  judi- 
ciously mingled  with  various  elements,  and  particularly  Avith  the 
characteristics  of  the  epic.  This  development,  originating  in  the 
very  nature  of  things,  was  to  be  the  work  of  several  generations. 
Whereas  the  Alcaic  or  Sapphic  strophe  proved  itself  from  the  very 
beginning  a  perfect  mould  for  the  poetry  of  Lesbos,  the  Pindaric 
triad  is  the  result  of  a  long  series  of  discoveries  that  arose  one  from 
the  other  out  of  a  steady  evolution.  Xor  were  the  different  types  of 
the  ornate  lyric  all  produced  at  once ;  they  arose  gradually  from  the 
movement  of  social  life  and  the  progress  of  art.  Hence  there  are 
different  periods  in  the  history  of  this  lyric  :  first  that  of  the  founders, 
Thaletas  for  tlie  ptean  and  the  hyporchema,  Alcraan  for  the  parthe- 
nion,  Arion  for  the  dithyramb;  then  the  period  of  the  great  techni- 
cal achievements  of  Stesichorus,  inc-huling  the  appearance  of  tlie 
heroic  hymn,  and  later  of  the  encomium ;  and  finally  the  period  of 
greatest  brilliance,  with  tlie  masters  of  the  triumphal  ode  or  epini- 
cion,  Simonides,  Pindar,  and  Paccliylides. 

A  large  part  of  the  lyric  works  that  charmed  Greece  during  these 
three  centuries  has  disap})eared.  Two  poets  only  —  I'indar,  and  of 
late  years  Bacchylides  —  are  still  extant,  each  in  a  collection  of  impos- 
ing hymns.  Hence,  it  is  to  them  especially  that  we  must  go  for 
tiioroughly  exact  information  as  to  the  nature  of  this  poetry. 

9.  Thaletas  :  the  Paean  and  the  Hyporchema.  —  Thaletas  came  from 
(iortyna  in  Crete.  Tlie  author  of  the  De  Musica  j)uts  his  date  at  the 
beginning  of  the  seventh  century.  He  is  said  to  have  come  to  Sparta 
at  the  bidding  of  an  oracle  to  organize  a  religious  festival  that  should 
end  a  jtestilenee.'  He  brought  from  his  native  land  the  use  of  cretic 
and  pa'anic  rhythms,  and  some  melodies  of  a  new  character.  These 
he  employed  in  pa-ans  and  hyporchemas  to  be  execiited  b}'  the  youths 
of  Sjiarta.  The  literary  merit  of  these  ])oems  is  wholly  unknown. 
The  only  thing  certain  is  the  role  attributed  to  him  and  his  disciples, 
for  he  founded  a  sort  of  scliool.  This  role,  no  doubt,  was  consider- 
1  I'luiarch,  he.  Musira.  42. 


Melic  Poetry  125 

able.  With  these  rhythms  music  entered  on  a  wholly  new  career. 
It  boldly  abandoned  the  dactyl  and  the  hexameter,  which  were  still 
used  by  Terpander.  The  old  traditions  were  abandoned,  and  a  more 
flexible,  richer,  more  brilliant  poetry  resulted.  It  is  remarkable  that 
Sparta,  where  this  musical  and  literary  revolution  took  place,  was  the 
tirst  city  in  Greece  to  attain  a  complete  civic  organization,  and  to 
communicate  to  the  rest  of  Hellas  the  notion  of  a  system  of  col- 
lective life  absolutely  different  from  that  of  the  Homeric  royal 
families. 

*10.  Alcman :  the  Parthenion.  —  Alcman,  too,  like  Thaletas,  Ter- 
pander, and  Tyrtaius,  is  a  foreigner.  Born  at  Sardis,  probably  of  a 
Greek  family,^  in  the  beginning  of  the  seventh  century,  he  also  came 
to  Sparta  at  the  bidding  of  an  oracle,  as  some  say ;  or,  according  to 
others,  as  a  slave.  On  account  of  the  splendor  of  her  religious  and 
civic  festivals,  Sparta  was  then  a  political  and  literary  centre  for  the 
musicians  and  poets  of  all  lands.  Alcman  lived  there  to  an  old  age 
and  composed  numerous  poems. 

His  works  formed  six  books,  but  we  have  only  a  few  fragments. 
Some  are  of  regular  hymns,  others  probably  of  paeans,  hyporchemas, 
or  scolia.  The  ancients  attributed  to  him  some  love  songs  also,  but 
the  most  famous  part  of  his  composition  was  his  collection  of 
parthenia. 

As  the  name  {TrapOtvCiov  or  irapOiviov)  indicates,  this  was  a  lyric 
poem  rendered  by  a  chorus  of  young  girls.  Certain  hyporchemas, 
such  as  those  of  Delos,  also  called  for  such  a  chorus.  But  the  par- 
thenion was  no  hy})orchema,  having  neither  its  expressive  mimicry 
nor  its  rapid  dance  ;  it  was  a  variety  of  prosodion  or  processional 
cliant.  Naturally  solemn,  it  had  greater  softness  and  grace  when 
rendered  by  young  Avomen.  Sparta  Avas  the  city  above  all  others 
for  such  choruses.  With  its  feast  in  honor  of  Artemis  and  Apollo, 
with  the  g3nnnastic  exercises  its  young  women  were  obliged  to  take, 
it  had  both  the  necessary  occasions  for  these  choruses  and  the  mate- 
rial with  which  to  form  them.  There  needed  to  be  found  only  an 
artist  to  turn  these  circumstances  to  profit  and  initiate  a  tradition. 

That  was  the  work  of  Alcman ;  and  the  nature  of  his  talent  had, 
as  it  were,  predestined  him  for  it.  He  may  be  said  to  have  hxed 
the  type  of  the  charming  parthenion,  wliich  ever  after  had  an 
im])ortant  place  in  Greek  lyric  poetry,  inspiring  numerous  master- 
pieces of  Simonides,  Bacchylides,  and  l*indar,  the  great  leaders  in 
lyric  com]X)sition. 

Ancient  writers  tell  \is  little  of  the  strictly  musical  innovations 
of  Alcman.     It  is  probable,  however,  that  the  Lydian  mode,  so  well 

1  Fr.  24. 


126  Greek  Literature 

fitted  to  the  girlish  "youth  of  his  choruses,  owed  to  him  its  great 
popularity.  In  any  event,  his  reforms  in  rhythm  and  metre  were 
important.  The  metre  grew  more  and  more  flexible.  Dactyls  were 
combined  with  trochees  as  in  the  Lesbian  poetry.  Tetrameters  and 
trimeters  were  united  in  uniform  systems  or  in  strophes  of  varied 
design.  The  strophe,  though  still  very  short,  was  sometimes  ampli- 
fied; and  particularly  the  rhythmic  mould  was  modified  from  one 
poem  to  another,  so  that,  in  place  of  the  unvarying  scheme  of  the 
Lesbians,  we  begin  to  see  the  variety  of  the  later  great  lyric  poems. 
All  is  still  very  simple,  however,  and  closely  resembles  the  original 
forms ;  but  the  new  direction  is  clearly  indicated,  and  it  is  easy  to 
see  how  the  historians  of  musical  theory  came  in  antiquity  to 
attribute  to  Alcman  almost  a  musical  revolution. 

The  characteristics  of  his  poetry  were  a  kind  of  grace  and  a 
delicate  and  familiar  sweetness.  We  can  no  longer  judge  of  his 
music ;  but  he  himself  said,  in  a  charming  way,  "  I  know  the  songs 
of  all  the  birds ; "  and  elsewhere  he  declared  that  he  had  learned  to 
sing  from  the  partridges  in  the  country.^  It  is  impossible  better  to 
define  the  free  and  novel  grace  of  his  melodies.  His  poetry,  like  his 
music,  is  full  of  elegance  and  tenderness. 

He  is  said  to  have  composed  some  love  songs  to  express  his  per- 
sonal feelings.  They  were  probably  odes  in  the  manner  of  the  Les- 
bians. A  few  of  our  fragments  may  come  from  them ;  but  Alcman 
had  no  need  to  compose  a  love  song  proper  to  express  his  sentiments. 
Even  in  hymns  to  the  gods,  he  prefers  to  the  heroic  myths  those  of 
grace  and  tenderness ;  and  especially  if  his  poem  was  rendered  by 
young  girls,  he  could  clothe  it  with  a  wavy,  luminous  atmosphere, 
and  fill  it  with  the  amiable  gallantry  wherein  his  soul  delighted. 
In  the  parthenia,  it  is  now  Alcman  himself  speaking  in  his  own 
name,  now  the  young  girls  who,  as  in  a  drama,  are  brought  into 
prominence.  In  either  case,  the  graceful  sensibility  of  the  poet  was 
shown.  Even  in  his  old  age,  his  imagination,  though  still  one  of 
gallantry,  Avas  never  insipid:  — 

'•  "My  limbs  refuse  to  carry  me,  0  young  maidens,  0  charming, 
swpet-voiced  singers.  Ah !  could  I  be  the  eeryle,  that  flics  Avith  the 
halcyons  on  the  crest  of  the  ocean  waves,  fearless,  dark-plum  aged 
bird  of  the  sea  in  spring."  ^ 

Such  an  imagination,  with  its  simile,  has  nothing  in  common  Avith 
tlio  ardor  of  Sappho.  It  does  not  appear  that  Alcman  ever  loved  as 
she  did.  "  Love  floods  my  heart,"  he  says  in  one  place,  "  by  the 
poAver  of  A])hrodite,  and  softens  it." ^     That  is  just  the  situation:  a 

1  Frs.  G7  and  25.  ^  pi-.  26.  3  Yx.  ;36. 


'  Melic  Poetry  127 

flood  of  tenderness  spreading  out  in  elegant  verse,  rather  than  con- 
centrated, devouring  passion  —  such  is  the  inspiration  of  his  poetry. 
His  style  is  the  very  image  of  his  thought  —  flexible  and  caress- 
ing. Although  he  wrote  in  the  dialect  of  Laconia,  the  general  move- 
ment of  his  sentences  scarcely  calls  to  mind  the  Spartan  ideal  of 
brief,  sententious  language.  The  use  of  the  local  dialect  is  for  him 
a  souvenir  of  the  antique ;  he  is  still  little  removed  from  popular 
poetry,  and  does  not  write  for  strangers.  The  march  of  his  style  is 
rather  Ionic  than  Doric ;  his  limpid  sentences  enfold  his  subjects  as 
a  wave  of  pure,  sweet  water  might  do.  He  describes,  for  example, 
with  admirable  richness,  the  sleep  of  nature :  — 

"  See  how  the  peaks  of  the  mountains  sleep,  and  the  low  valleys, 
the  promontories,  and  the  torrents,  and  the  tribes  of  reptiles,  fed  by 
the  dark  earth. ^  The  beasts  of  the  mountain,  the  swarms  of  bees,  the 
monsters  of  the  gloomy  deep,  and  all  the  broad-winged  birds  are 
given  over  to  sleep."  ^ 

The  enumeration  is  both  summary  and  abundant,  the  details  are 
exquisite,  and  the  effect  of  the  whole  is  grand.  Again  he  says,  with 
as  much  grace  as  force,  to  some  divine  companion  of  Dionysus  :  — 

"Often,  on  the  crests  of  the  mountains,  when  a  splendid  feast  is 
charming  the  gods,  thou,  with  a  golden  vase  in  thy  hands,  like  a 
deep  bowl  such  as  the  shepherds  have,  didst  milk  the  lions  and  pre- 
pare a  cheese  worthy  of  him  who  caused  the  death  of  Argus."  ^ 

The  composition  of  his  poems  would  escape  us,  had  not  a  long 
passage  of  more  than  a  hundred  verses,  written  on  papyrus,  been 
brought  to  light  half  a  century  ago  from  the  tombs  of  Egypt.  Mari- 
ette  sent  it  to- France,  and  Eniile  Egger  Avas  the  first  to  publish  it. 
Since  then  many  scholars  have  studied  it  sedulously.  Despite  all 
efforts,  however,  the  papyrus  is  too  much  nuitilated,  and  our  igno- 
rance of  the  persons  and  things  mentioned  too  great,  to  make  possible 
a  complete  restoration.  However,  the  things  that  are  manifest  are 
full  of  interest.  And  the  poem  is  but  a  fresh  confirmation  of  what 
was  already  known  as  to  the  brilliant  grace  of  his  imagination  and 
his  style,  the  delight  he  took  in  bringing  forward  prominently  the 
young  girls  of  his  chorus,  calling  them  by  name,  and  lavishing  on 
them  delicate  i)raise ;  and  it  is  also  a  more  exact  showing  of  the 
style  of  literary  and  rhythmic  composition  in  his  more  extended 
odes. 

The  poem  probably  contained  twelve  stanzas,"*  each  having  four- 
teen verses.     The  stanzas  are  almost  alike,  excepting  the  last  verse, 

1  Here  some  of  the  words  are  in  dispute.  ^  Fr.  60.  ^  Fr.  o4. 

*  Seven  are  extant.  According  to  IJergk,  three  are  mis.sing  at  the  begiiniing 
and  two  at  the  end. 


128  Greek  Literature 

which  seems  to  have  been  different  for  each  group  of  three  stanzas. 
Aside  from  this,  their  metrical  structure  is  simple  enough. 

The  poem  appears  to  have  been  written  for  a  feast  of  the  Dios- 
curi ;  it  is  a  parthenion,  as  is  shown  by  the  part  which  the  young 
girls  play  in  it.  In  the  beginning,  the  poet  develops  a  mythic  nar- 
rative, probably  the  victory  of  the  Dioscuri  over  the  sons  of  Hip- 
pocoon.  The  central  part  of  the  poem  was  taken  up  with  eulogies 
addressed  to  the  young  girls  of  the  chorus.  One  may  suppose  that, 
at  the  end,  the  poet  returned  to  present  circumstances,  or  expressed 
general  truths.  In  the  admixture  of  myth  with  allusions  to  the 
actual  present,  we  have  in  germ  the  composition  of  an  ode  of  Pindar, 
but  with  more  of  artlessness  and  less  of  studied  complexity  or  gen- 
eral harmony. 

The  tomb  of  Alcman,  according  to  Pausanias,  was  beside  the 
monument  of  the  heroes  of  whom  he  had  sung.  If  the  stern  Doric 
city  so  completely  adopted  a  poet  who,  in  many  waj's,  seems  more 
Ionic  than  Spartan  in  spirit,  this  is  doubtless  because  no  other  sang 
in  so  brilliant  terms  of  the  beauty  of  her  daughters  and  the  sculp- 
tural grace  of  her  choruses ;  these,  according  to  Terpander  and  Pin- 
dar, brought  Sparta  as  great  honor  as  did  the  valor  of  her  warriors. 

11.  Arion :  the  Dithyramb.  —  Arion  is  sometimes  given  as  a  dis- 
ciple of  Alcman,  and  is,  with  Alcman  and  Thaletas,  one  of  the 
founders  of  the  choral  lyric.  His  two  predecessors  had  introduced 
as  art  forms  the  paean,  the  hyporchema,  and  the  parthenion,  compo- 
sitions written  in  honor  of  Apollo,  and  rendered  by  a  quadrangular 
chorus  of  three,  four,  or  five  files,  advancing  with  harmonious  and 
measured  movements.  Arion  brought  to  light  the  dithyramb,  which 
is  written  in  honor  of  Dionysus,  and  executed  by  a  circular  choru^ 
the  melody  being  tumultuous  and  passionate. 

Arion  was  born,  according  to  tradition,  at  Methymna  in  Lesbos. 
His  date  is  indicated  approximately  by  his  relations  with  Periander, 
the  tyrant  of  Corinth  during  the  last  quarter  of  the  seventh  century. 
Arion  first  visited  Sparta,  where  he  won  tlie  prize  at  the  Carneonic 
musical  festival ; '  later  he  went  to  Italy.  But  in  the  interval  he 
lived  principally  at  Corinth,  at  the  court  of  Periander.  A  well- 
known  legend  from  Herodotus^  states  that  on  his  return  from  Italy, 
the  riches  lie  had  acquired  roused  the  cui)idity  of  the  sailors  on  his 
ship:  threatened  with  being  cast  into  the  sea,  he  obtained  leave  to 
sing  beforehand  a  higli-pitched  nome.  The  beauty  of  his  song 
brouglit  close  to  the  vessel  a  dolphin,  on  whose  back  he  was  carried 
to  Cape  Ttenarum. 

1  [On  the  Carneonic  Festival,  see  Ilellanicus.  fr.  85  M.,  v.  1.  —  Tr.] 

2  Herodotn-;.  T.  ■■! 


Melic  Poetry  129 

Suidas  says  that  Arion  wrote  "chants"  and  "  proems,"  forming  a 
total  of  two  thousand  verses.  The  chants,  no  doubt,  were  dithy- 
rambs ;  and  the  proems,  odes  for  the  cithara,  like  those  of  Terpander. 
For  in  Lesbos  he  may  have  made  the  acquaintance  of  Terpander's 
school ;  and  the  legend  just  mentioned  represents  him  as  singing  a 
nome.  Of  the  tAvo  thousand  verses,  many  of  which  were  apocryphal, 
nothing  remains  but  a  short  fragment  without  authenticity.  Hence 
we  can  form  only  an  opinion  concerning  the  nature  of  his  role  in  the 
transformation  of  the  dithyramb. 

Aristotle  informs  us  that  the  primitive  dithyramb  was  a  very 
simple  poem,  with  regular  strophes  and  a  refrain.  The  name  of 
TpaytKos  x°P°5j  sometimes  given  to  it,  shows  that  the  chorus  was  often 
formed  of  persons  disguised  as  satyrs  with  goat's  hoofs  (rpayos,  goat). 
Suidas  declares  that  Arion  was  the  first  to  think  of  introdiicing  into 
the  chorus  a  group  of  satyrs  reciting  verses,  but  not  chanting  them. 
It  is  hardly  probable,  for  this  would  have  resembled  too  closely 
tragedy  proper.  It  is  more  probable  that  the  originality  of  Arion 
consisted  principally  in  making  of  the  popular  dithyramb,  with  its 
short  strophes  and  noisy  refrain,  a  more  refined  poem,  accompanied 
with  prettier  music,  and  particularly  a  poem  sumptuous  in  its  exe- 
cution, to  correspond  with  the  magnificence  of  Periander. 

12.  Stesichorus :  the  Heroic  Hymn  and  the  Triad. — With  Ste- 
sichorus,  we  leave  the  period  of  beginnings  to  enter  upon  that  of 
decided  progress. 

Stesichorus  was  born,  according  to  the  tradition  most  widely 
current,  at  Ilimera  in  Sicily.  He  lived  about  eighty  years,  in  the 
second  half  of  the  seventh  century  and  the  first  half  of  the  sixth. 
His  name,  which  means  "  Arranger  of  the  Chorus,"  was  probably  a 
mere  nickname  —  his  true  name  being  Tisias,  according  to  Suidas. 
His  life  is  almost  unknown.  He  is  said  to  have  recited  before  the 
inhabitants  of  Agrigentum  the  fable  of  the  horse  who  wished  to 
take  vengeance  on  the  stag,  that  he  might  put  them  on  their  guard 
against  the  tyrant  Phalaris.  An  interesting  legend,  found  as  early 
as  Plato,  tells  that,  having  related  in  a  poem  the  unfaithfulness  of 
Helen,  he  was  smitten  with  blindness ;  but  that,  after  singing  the 
palinode,  he  regained  his  sight.  It  is  certain  that  Simonides.  half 
a  century  after  his  death,  spoke  of  him  as  classic  and  namej.  him 
in  his  verses  as  worthy  of  being  at  the  side  of  Homer! 

His  poems  formed  twenty-six  books,  a  collection  three  or  four 
times  as  great  as  that  of  Alcman.  l';eans,  love  songs,  .so-called 
"  bucolic"  poems,  and  hymns  of  his  are  cited.  The  "bucolic  "  poems 
—  a  subject  to  which  we  shall  return  —  were  probably  (mly  hymns 
of   a  particular  sort.     The  hymns    proper  were  certainly  the  most 


130  Greek  Literature 

extensive,  and  in  every  way  the  most  important,  part  of  his 
works. 

The  word  "  hymn  "  was  the  generic  term  to  designate  all  poetry 
chanted  in  honor  of  the  gods.  In  a  more  restricted  sense,  the  hymn 
was  a  chant  executed  by  a  standing  chorus  to  the  accompaniment 
of  the  cithara.  The  immobility  of  the  chorus  —  which,  perhaps,  did 
not  exclude  certain  motions  executed  on  the  spot  —  distinguished 
the  hymn  from  the  psean,  the  hyporchema,  the  prosodion,  and  the 
dithyramb. 

One  of  the  earliest  innovations  of  Stesichorus  was  the  consecra- 
tion of  his  hymns,  no  longer  to  the  honor  of  a  god,  but  to  the  narra- 
tion of  an  epic  myth.  Those  whose  titles  we  have  are  not  called 
"  Hymn  to  Zeus "  or  *'  Hymn  to  Apollo,"  but  are  entitled  the 
Oresteia,  the  Geryoneid,  the  Hunt  of  the  Wild  Boar,  etc.  One  would 
say,  in  the  just  words  of  Bergk,  that  they  were  titles  of  epic  rhapso- 
dies; since  they  are  musical  epics,  in  which  the  adventures  of 
heroes  are  developed  on  a  large  scale.  The  Oresteia  formed  two 
books.  These  great  compositions  were  evidently  designed  for  the 
solemn  festivals  celebrated  by  the  cities  in  Sicily  and  ^Nlagna 
Graecia  in  honor  of  their  pretended  founders,  Greek  heroes  of  the 
siege  of  Troy,  whose  adventurous  Returns  had  been  sung  by  the 
cyclic  poets. 

An  important  reform  in  rhythms  and  metres  corresponded  to 
this  change  in  the  nature  of  the  hymn.  The  short  logaoedic  strophe 
of  the  old  lyric  poets  was  no  longer  sufficient.  Stesichorus  composed 
long   strophes,    whose   dactylic  members,  variously  combined  with 

epitrites  (— vy ),  formed  large  and  ample  groups.     Furthermore, 

these  enlarged  strophes  were  in  turn  combined  to  form  still  larger 
groups.  Stesichorus  invented  the  triad,  or  group  of  three  closely 
connected  strophes.  His  procedure  was  as  simple  as  it  was  ingen- 
ious. After  two  strophes  exactly  alike,  —  strophe  and  antistrophe, 
—  he  introduced  a  third,  the  epode,  of  a  different  metre,  which,  con- 
sequently, was  sung  to  another  air.  The  effect  produced  is  evident: 
first,  all  monotony  disappeared,  then  the  strophe  ceased  to  be  the 
essential  unit  of  the  ode.  That  unit  was  formed  by  the  triad,  which 
was  longer,  and  so  more  capable  of  sustaining  the  ample  develop- 
ments of  lyric  narrative.  Thus  at  a  single  stroke  the  power  of  the 
lyric  poem  was  tripled,  and  indeed  more  than  tripled,  if  one  thinks 
that  each  [larticular  strophe  was  also  enlarged.  And  this  discovery 
definitely  fixed  the  essential  form  of  the  lyric  poem.  Notwith- 
standing exceptions,  one  may  say  that  the  triad  became  the  essential 
form  for  tlie  (Jreek  ornate  lyric.  It  would  be  interesting  to  know 
how  Stesichorus  managed  to  fill  the  space  of  his  great  triad.     Un- 


Melic  Poetry  131 

happily,  we  have  of  his  poems  only  a  few  titles  and  fragments. 
To  the  titles  cited  above,  we  may  add :  the  Funeral  Games  of  Pelias, 
the  odes  to  Cerberus,  Cymv^,  Scylla,  Helen  (with  the  celebrated  Pal- 
inode), Europa,  and  Eriphyle,  and  the  Returns.  Epic  myths  evi- 
dently formed  the  basis  of  these  poems.  There  is  little  doubt  that, 
while  drawing  his  inspiration  from  tradition,  he  used  great  liberty 
in  the  arrangement  of  details.  His  variations  in  the  story  of  Helen 
serve  to  prove  this  a  fact.  Doubtless,  too,  his  manner  of  telling 
the  story  was  not  much  different  from  that  of  the  epic  poets.  Epic 
narratives  are  found  in  series,  their  circumstantial  setting  is  given, 
and  they  are  told  for  their  own  sakes.  But  lyric  poetry  connects 
its  narrative  with  a  particular  occasion,  which  is  the  feast  that 
is  being  celebrated.  It  alludes  to  things  present  in  time  and  space, 
never  completely  losing  these  from  sight.  Its  narrative  does  not 
proceed  with  regularity  in  details.  It  supposes  that  the  facts  are 
known,  and  boldly  passes  from  summit  to  summit.  The  fragments 
of  Stesichorus  are  too  short  to  permit  us  to  judge  his  work  fully, 
but  they  do  allow  us  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  certain  characteristics, 
which,  it  may  be  said,  are,  a  priori,  necessary  ones. 

The  style  of  Stesichorus  is  better  understood  than  the  method 
of  his  composition.  We  see  that  his  dialect  is  a  literary,  slightly 
modified  Doric,  connected  only  indirectly  with  the  local  dialect.  It 
is  pan-Hellenic,  like  the  material  of  his  inspiration.  His  vocabulary 
constantly  recalls  that  of  epic.  His  sentences,  though  sometimes 
rather  excessive  in  length,  are  full  and  easy,  and  rich  in  epithets. 
"  Had  he  known,"  says  Quintilian,  "  how  to  keep  within  limits,  he 
would  have  been  the  equal  of  Homer."  ^  The  longest  extant  pas- 
sage of  the  Hymns  is  a  fragment  of  six  verses,  showing  something 
of  this  profuse,  yet  brilliant,  style.  It  is  a  passage  on  the  golden 
cup  in  which  the  Sun  crosses  the  ocean  at  night,  and  with  which 
Heracles  went  to  seek  the  oxen  of  Geryon  :  — 

"  Helios,  son  of  Hyperion,  embarked  in  the  cup  of  gold  to  sail 
across  the  ocean  to  the  dark  valleys  of  sacred  night  —  to  his  mother, 
to  the  wife  whom  he  espoused  yet  a  maiden,  and  to  his  dear  children  ; 
and  by  his  side  the  son  of  Zeus  walked  on  foot  to  the  groves  made 
shady  by  thick  bay  trees."  ^ 

We  must  return,  however,  to  the  so-called  "  bucolic "  poems, 
^lian  says  that  Stesichorus  was  the  first  to  relate  the  blindness  of 
Daphnis,  and  that,  in  so  doing,  he  introduced  the  bucolic  chants  of 
which  that  adventure  was  the  subject.'''  Does  it  follow  from  this 
that  Stesichorus  composed  bucolics  proper?     Evidently  not.     The 

1  Inst.  Or.  X,  1,  G2.  "-  Fr.  8.  «  Hist.  Var.  X,  18. 


132  Greek  Literature 

inference  deducible  from  this  evidence  is  merely  that  Stesichorus 
gave  space  iu  one  of  his  poems  to  the  pastoral  legends  of  Sicily  and 
to  the  story  of  Daphnis.  There  is  no  reason  for  believing  that  this 
was  not  done  in  one  of  his  hymns. 

Somewhere,  too,  he  related  stories  of  rather  romantic  character, 
notably  the  adventures  of  Calyce  and  Rhadine.  Calyce,  a  young 
girl  in  love  and  disdained  by  the  man  she  loved,  threw  herself  over 
the  precipice  of  Leucadia.  Rhadine,  beloved  of  a  tyrant  of  Corinth, 
had  fallen  into  his  power ;  a  cousin  of  the  young  woman  came  to 
deliver  her ;  the  tyrant  put  them  both  to  death ;  and  then,  smitten 
with  remorse,  accorded  them  an  honorable  burial.  These  are,  evi- 
dently, true  love  romances  of  the  type  of  those  that  later  delighted 
Alexandrian  Greece.  But  whether  Stesichorus  told  the  stories  in 
poems  other  than  hymns  is  not  at  all  certain.  As  he  had  brought 
the  lyric  hymn  to  a  dignity  comparable  with  that  of  the  Iliad,  so  he 
may  have  made  it  take  also  a  tone  like  that  of  the  Odyssey,  only 
more  familiar  and  romantic. 

But  it  is  principally  through  the  epic  grandeur  of  his  inspiration 
that  Stesichorus  has  become  famous.  We  have  already  noticed  that 
Simonides  associated  him  with  Homer.  Antipater  of  Sidon,  speak- 
ing in  the  same  vein,  said,  in  one  of  his  epigrams,  that  the  soul  of 
Homer  had  come  to  dwell  in  Stesichorus;^  and  Quintilian,  in  his  day, 
wrote  that  Stesichorus  had  sustained  with  the  lyre  the  burden  of 
epic  poetry.^  He  must  have  strengthened  his  lyre  to  do  this,  evi- 
denth^,  and  so  bequeathed  to  his  successors  an  instrument  of  wholly 
new  power. 

13.  Ibycus  :  the  Encomium.  —  Ibycus,  born  at  Rhegium  when  Ste- 
sichorus was  an  old  man,  must  certainly  have  owed  much  to  his 
great  predecessor.  He  was  even  sometimes  considered  as  the  author 
of  the  Funeral  Games  of  Pelias  ;  and  the  grammarians  often  group 
the  two  poets  together  as  being  somewhat  alike  in  style.^  It  is 
therefore  probable  that  Ibycus  was  an  imitator  of  Stesichorus.  As 
such,  he  would  scarcely  merit  attention,  especially  since  he  is  to-day 
so  little  known ;  for  we  have  scarcely  forty  complete  verses  out  of 
seven  books  of  poems  composing  his  works.  But  it  seems  that,  in 
one  j)oint  at  least,  he  was  really  original.  The  hymn,  once  a  reli- 
gious poem,  but  treated  by  Stesichorus  as  merely  heroic,  underwent 
a  new  and  fruitful    transformation  at  the  hands   of   Ibycus.     He 

1  Anthol.  Pal.  VII,  75.  2  /,js^_  q,.  x,  1,  62. 

3  Ibycus  died  at  an  advanced  age.  Ili.s  death  gave  rise  to  the  famous  legend 
of  the  '•  Cranes  of  Ibycus."  [According  to  tliis  legend,  Ibycus  was  being  mur- 
dered, when  he  observed  some  cranes  flying  overhead.  His  exclaiming  that 
these  would  be  his  avengers  was  later  inadvertently  referred  to  by  bis  mur- 
derers when  they  .saw  another  flock  of  cranes.  —  Tr.  ] 


Melic  Poetry  133 

derived  from  it  the  encomium,  a  hymn  purely  human,  in  praise  of 
some  contemporary. 

Living,  as  did  Anacreon,  at  the  court  of  Polycrates,  tyrant  of 
Samos,  he  composed,  as  also  did  Anacreon,  numerous  love  songs, 
which  are  sometimes  classified  as  a  kind  of  monodic  poetry.  But 
this  classification  is  only  a  conjecture,  and  is  rendered  very  improb- 
able by  the  nature  of  the  verses  still  preserved.  For  even  in  those 
fragments  in  which  the  tone  is  most  personal,  one  recognizes  the 
great  choral  strophe  created  by  Stesichorus.  It  was,  then,  in  his 
hj'mns  that  Ibycus  sang  of  love.  And  to  be  still  more  precise,  we 
may  say  that  it  was  in  his  encomia.  The  court  of  Polycrates  was 
an  ideal  theatre  for  such  poetry.  The  innovation  had  so  much 
success  that,  from  the  next  generation  on,  all  the  rulers  of  the 
Greek  world  wished  to  have  at  their  feasts  similar  poetic  treats  ; 
and  so  the  encomium  as  a  type  of  poetry  became  well  established. 
If  the  amorous  poems  of  Ibycus  were  ornate  choral  lyrics,  it  may  be 
doubted  whether  they  expressed  his  own  sentiments.  It  is  much 
more  likely  that  their  sentiments  should  be  ascribed  to  Polycrates. 
For,  like  Anacreon,  Ibycus  must  often  have  been  obliged  to  serve  as 
the  mouthpiece  for  the  expression  of  his  protector's  wishes.  This, 
so  far  as  we  can  judge,  he  did  with  a  refined  nobility,  imitating 
both  the  fulness  of  Stesichorus  and  the  vivacity  of  Sappho.  The 
poetic  form  of  the  encomium  can  be  better  treated,  however,  when 
we  come  to  deal  with  better-preserved  monuments.  Here  it  needs 
only  to  be  said  that  the  epinicia  of  Simonides,  of  Bacchylides,  and 
of  Pindar  are  but  a  particular  form  derived  from  it. 

14.  The  Great  Masters  of  the  Choral  Lyric  :  Simonides.  —  We  come 
now  to  the  age  when  the  choral  lyric  was  perfected.  The  great 
poets  with  whom  we  are  to  be  occupied  needed  only  to  gather  the 
harvest  of  poetry,  so  to  speak,  which  the  i)receding  centuries  had 
produced.  They  had  in  their  hands  an  instrument  of  admirable 
richness,  and,  each  in  his  own  way,  they  played  with  supreme  skill. 

Simonides  comes  first  in  point  of  time.  He  was  born  at  lulls 
in  the  little  island  of  Ceos,  about  550.'  AVhen  iripparchus.  the  son 
of  Pisistratus,  began  to  seek  artists  and  ])oets,  Siinonides,  then  some 
thirty  years  of  age,  was  one  of  those  who  came  to  Athens.  Here  he 
jnet  Lasos  of  Hermione  and  Anacreon.  The  murder  of  Hipparchus 
scattered  this  brilliant  group.  Simonides  went  to  XlifiSaaJy  to  live 
with  the  Scopadffi  and  Aleuada%  who  kept  their  courts  at  Pharsalia 
and  Larissa.  He  probably  lived  many  years  with  the  Scopada?,  for 
he  dedicated  to  them  numerous  poems.      Some  vague  catastrophe, 

^  This  follows  from  his  own  testimony.  In  an  epigram  written  in  47('>.  he 
gives  his  age  as  eighty.     Cf.  Simonides,  fr.  147. 


134  Greek  Literature 

probably  the  falling  of  a  roof  during  a  feast,  appears  to  have  almost 
destroyed  the  family.  Simonides,  saved  by  some  happy  chance, 
celebrated  the  dead  in  a  hymn.  The  well-known  legend  concerning 
the  aid  given  to  Simonides  by  the  Dioscuri  is  connected  with  this 
incident.  The  first  Persian  War,  however,  appears  to  have  been  the 
cause  of  his  leaving  Thessaly.  He  returned  to  Athens,  where  he 
composed  an  elegy  in  honor  of  those  who  died  at  Marathon.  And 
iEschylus  himself  competed  with  him  in  a  poem  on  the  subject, 
oiTly  to  be  defe^edT  In  the  time  of  the  second  Persian  War, 
Simonides  was  a  friend  of  the  leading  chiefs  of  Greece,  and  com- 
posed verses  in  honor  of  the  heroes  of  her  independence.  In  476, 
at  the  age  of  eighty,  he  was  again  at  Athens,  where  he  won  a 
prize  in  a  dithyrambic  contest.  Despite— boscage,  he  still  went  on 
distant  voyages.  He  travelled  to  Sicily  and  Magna  Graecia,  where 
he  was  received  with  honor  by  Hiero  of  Syracuse,  Thero  of  Agri- 
gentum,  and  Anaxilaus  of  Rhegium.  At  Syracuse  he  met  his  great 
rival,  Pindar,  and  his  own  nephew,  Bacchylides.  The  scholiasts 
say  that  Pindar  was  on  bad  terms  with  the  two  poets  of  Ceos ;  what- 
ever may  be  the  truth  about  the  story,  it  is  certain  that  Simonides 
enjoyed  great  influence  with  the  Sicilian  tyrants.  He  is  even  said 
to  have  pfeventell'  warXiUTn  breakingmrt  between  Hiero  of  Syracuse 
and  that  ruler's  brother-in-law,  Thero.  The  poet  probably  died  at 
Syracuse ;  at  least  his  tomb  was  pointed  out  there.  According  to 
Suidas  he  lived  to  be  eighty-nine  years  old. 

In  the  course  of  his  long  life  he  composed  a  multitude  of  works. 
His  epigrams,  already  mentioned,  were  numerous.  He  also  cultivated 
the  elegy  and  almost  all  the  varieties  of  choral  lyric.  Of  his  rich 
productivity,  we  have  only  about  a  hundred  fragments.  Some,  for- 
tunately, are  long  and  beautiful  enough  to  be  of  considerable  interest 
still. 

Simonides  was  a  man  of  reflection  and  keen  observation  of 
manners.  He  had  met  many  men  and  done  much  tliinking.  A 
number  of  his  apothegms  were  famous.  His  verses  contain  a  much 
greater  amount  of  moral  philosophy  than  those  of  Stesichorus  and 
Ibycus.  He  was  regarded  as  the  heir  of  the  great  elegiac  poets; 
and  in  the  cultivation  of  elegiac  poetry  he  had  acquired  the  habit 
of  tliinking  sententiously.  His  lyric  fragments  are  filled  with  gen- 
eral maxims.  The  dialogues  of  Plato  show  that  his  poems  were  among 
tliose  to  wliich  the  cultivated  minds  of  Athens  loved  to  resort  for 
concise  statements  of  proverbial  wisdom.  Simonides  was  quoted  in  * 
the  conversation  of  the  educated  almost  as  Horace  has  been  since. 
His  jihilosophy  is  above  all  a  polite  wisdom  derived  from  experience 
and  an  indulgent  spirit,  from  resignation  smiling  before  inevitable 


Melic  Poetry  135 

evil  or  relative  and  partial  good.  He  declares  somewhere  that  one 
must  regard  life  as  play  and  take  nothing  too  seriously.^  Elsewhere, 
by  an  image  in  the  style  of  Pascal  or  of  Bossuet,  he  compares  a  hun- 
dred or  a  thousand  years  to  a  point  in  the  infinity  of  time.*  The  en- 
mity found  in  public  life  seemed  to  him  as  natural  as  the  law  by 
which  certain  birds  have  a  crest.'  Moli^re's  Philinte  *  could  not  have 
said  this  better.  You  need  not  tell  Sinionides  of  perfect,  absolute 
virtue.  **  I  shall  not  seek,"  said  he,  "  that  which  cannot  exist." 
Moderate  honesty,  incapable  of  pleasure  in  ill-doing,  was  enough  for 
him,  inasmuch  as  to  do  ill  under  constraint  was  not  being  dishonest. 
"Necessity  triumphs  even  over  gods."  ^  He  speaks  of  the  gods  with 
respect  in  general,  conforming  to  religious  and  poetic  tradition.  At 
times,  however,  he  uses  a  light  tone  concerning  them,  which  the 
ancients  themselves  noted ;  for  example,  speaking  in  praise  of  an 
athlete,  he  did  not  shrink  from  saying,  more  wittily  than  respect- 
fully:- 

"  Neither  the  strength  of  Pollux  nor  the  iron  limbs  of  the  son  of 
Alcmene  could  have  sustained  his  attack."  ® 

This  mobility  of  spirit,  with  its  indifferent  and  sceptical  features, 
led  him  one  day  to  a  serious  inconsistency.  After  having  been  the 
guest  and  friend  of  the  Pisistratidaj,  he  wrote  an  encomium  on  the 
murderers  of  Hippias  —  Harmodius  and  Aristogiton.  Whatever 
pretext  he  might  offer  in  excuse  for  this  insult,  it  is  to  be  feared 
that  in  it  he  showed  less  character  than  talent. 

The  ancients  at  times  even  accused  him  of  venality.  But  the  re- 
proach is  probably  unjust.  It  is  based  on  the  fact  that  Simonides, 
unlike  his  predecessors,  obtained  from  his  verses  a  regular  income. 
This  merely  proves,  however,  that  the  situation  of  the  lyric  poets  had 
changed.  Their  art  was  henceforth  sufficiently  in  demand  with  the 
princes  and  in  the  cities  to  have  a  market  value.  They  lived  by 
their  verses  as  did  sculptors  by  their  statues  and  painters  by  their 
pictures.  Pindar  himself,  though  praising  the  ancient  custom  and 
censuring  the  recent  one,  in  reality  followed  the  latter.  There  is, 
accordingly,  no  conclusion  to  be  drawn  against  Simonides  because 
his  al)ility  won  him  wealth. 

The  artist  in  Simonides  is  like  the  man.  As  his  character  is  in- 
fluenced by  diversity  of  circumstances,  so  his  talent  can  assume  every 
tone.  Generally  he  is  elef-rant.  but  simple.  He  is  spirited,  "■jjiPiP^'^i 
^rsuasive ;  but  he  is  powerful,  also,  and  above  all  patnetic.     He  is 

1  Fr.  192.  ■*  rhilinte  is  a  character  in  Moli^re,  Le  Misanthrope. 

2  Fr.  lOG.  6  pr.  5. 
8  Fr.  08.  6  Yr.  8. 


136  Greek  Literature 

admirable  for  the  sweet  pathos  in  which,  in  the  judgment  of  the 
ancients,  no  one  was  his  equal. 

^He  wrote  in  modified  Doric,  like  Stesichorus  and  Ibycus.  His 
vocabulary  is  relatively  simple.  Though  he  knew  as  well  as  any  one 
how  to  form  pretty  epithets  with  compound  words,  he  could  also  dis- 
pense with  them.  Often  he  puts  vivid  images  before  us  in  few 
words.  His  sentences  are  ordinarily  concise  and  clear.  In  his  brev- 
ity one  feels  the  elegiac  poet ;  but  he  knows  liow  to  connect  artfully 
his  short  sentences  into  subtle  passages  of  dialectic  reasoning,  or 
heap  them  one  upon  the  other  to  excite  pity  by  the  accumulation  of 
delicate  and  touching  details.  The  long  fragment  of  his  ode  to  the 
Scopadae,  from  which  we  obtained  above  his  definition  of  moderate 
honesty,  is  a  very  curious  example  of  flexible,  clever  dialectic.  One 
would  think  it  a  discourse  of  Horace  —  informal,  smiling,  full  of  good 
humor  and  vivacity.  Nothing  is  less  like  the  ordinary  majesty  of 
Pindar.  In  the  following  verses,  however,  the  tone  of  treatment 
rises  with  the  subject ;  they  are  a  fragment  from  an  ode  on  the 
battle  of  Thermop^dte :  — 

"  Illustrious  is  the  fate  and  glorious  the  destiny  of  those  who  per- 
ished at  Thermopylae  :  their  tomb  is  an  altar ;  our  lamentation  for 
them  is  a  song;  our  mourning  is  a  eulogy  of  praise.  Neither  rust 
nor  wasting  time  can  destroy  such  a  monument.  The  urn  that  holds 
the  ashes  of  these  heroes  has  the  most  brilliant  polish  that  Greece 
can  give.  See,  if  you  will,  that  of  Leonidas  of  Sparta,  whose  glori- 
ous valor  shines  in  imperisliable  splendor.''^ 

Quite  different  is  the  perfect  examjile  of  natural  pathos,  touching 
and  sweet,  already  spoken  of,  found  in  a  celebrated  passage  from  the 
lamentations  of  Danae,  who  was  exposed,  with  her  child,  on  the 
sea  in  a  frail  boat.  It  is  as  if  we  were  reading  an  exquisite  passage 
of  Euripides. 

"  In  this  exquisitely  built  wherry,  carried  along  by  furious  winds 
and  tossing  waves,  pale  with  fear,  tears  covering  her  cheeks,  she  took 
her  beloved  Perseus  into  her  arms  and  said:  '()  my  child,  what 
troul)le  is  mine  !  Thou,  child,  art  slee])ing  and  thy  young  heart 
rests  in  this  tossing,  brass-nailed  boat,  in  the  darkness  of  night,  with 
its  (li'ead  shadows.  When  the  tall  wave  passes  thy  ])retty  locks, 
thou  (lost  not  heed  more  than  if  it  wei'e  a  mui'uiur  of  the  wind  — 
child  half-hid  by  tliy  pur})le  coverlet,  charming  face.  Ah  I  if  for 
thee,  danger  were  danger,  then  would  thy  keen  ear  listen  to  my 
speech.  I  pray  thee,  little  one,  sleep  :  would  that  the  sea,  too,  were 
sleeping  —  tlu^  great  scourge!  Show  us.  I'^ither  Zeus,  show  us  a 
will  more  clement  —  if  my  words  seem  bold,  for  my  child's  'S'ake, 
forgive  nio  their  boldness.'  "' 

1  Vv.  4.  2  Fr.  37. 


Melic  Poetry  137 

A  rather  long  fragment  of  elegy  (fourteen  verses)  on  the  follow- 
ing theme  from  Homer,  Olrjirtp  </)i;AAo)v  ytvtrj,  roirj  Sk  koL  avSpwv,  shows 
us  in  the  Ionic  dialect  the  same  qualities  of  judicious  grace  as  are 
found  in  the  lyric  fragments.  Here  again  it  is  a  sage,  a  friend  of 
moderation,  who  chats  amiably  with  his  reader,  and  recommends  to 
him,  with  more  of  persuasive  finesse  than  sublimity,  the  philosophy 
of  good  nature. 

Though  the  fragments  of  Simonides  show  us  rather  clearly  his 
spirit  and  style,  they  are  too  short  to  give  the  idea  of  his  method  of 
composition.  This  is  the  more  to  be  regretted,  because  he  was  the 
first  to  compose  epinicia,  or  triumphal  odes.  His  epinicia  were 
famous  and  became  classic.  It  would  be  interesting  to  compare  V 
them  with  those  of  Pindar  and  Bacchylides,  and  see  how  the  in- 
ventor of  the  type  solved  the  delicate  problem  of  putting  interest 
into  a  subject  which,  in  itself,  might  seem  rather  dull ;  how  he 
managed  to  combine  beautiful  fictions  of  myth  with  reality,  and  to 
combine  in  unity  of  tone  the  variety  of  his  apparent  digressions.  The 
only  thing  we  can  say  with  certainty  is  that,  like  Pindar,  he  gave 
much  space  to  myths.  This  is  seen  in  the  legend  of  his  rescue  by 
the  Dioscuri,  who  were  said  to  have  saved  him  because  of  the  eulogy 
he  had  consecrated  to  them  in  his  ode  on  the  Scopadae.  The  legend 
recounted  that  the  Scopadae  had  been  displeased,  but  that  the  Dios- 
curi had  shown  him  their  gratitude  for  his  favor.  The  Dioscuri,  in 
fact,  miglit  well  have  rewarded  him ;  but  the  allegation  relative  ta 
the  discontent  of  the  Scopadae  proves  merely  that  the  legend  dates 
from  a  time  when  the  essential  laws  of  the  epinicion  had  been  for- 
gotten. In  the  time  of  Simonides,  no  man  would  have  thought 
of  being  offended  if  the  gods  were  given  part  of  his  proper 
glory.  Myth  was  then  regarded  as  the  history  of  the  divine  realm 
and  formed  the  best  of  all  poetic  material.  It  is  probable  that 
Simonides,  like  Pindar,  drew  his  myths  from  the  cycle  of  legends 
relative  to  the  family  of  his  hero,  or  his  hero's  fatherland,  or  the 
games  which  he  had  won.  No  Greek  of  this  period  would  have 
dreamed  of  taking  offence.  One  of  the  merits  of  Simonides  cer- 
tainly was  to  understand  this,  and  so  to  trace  for  his  successors  the 
path  that  they  should  follow. 
^  Simonides'  memory  was  kept  very  bright  in  Athens.  Aristoph- 
anes often  cited  him.  Plato  and  Xenophou  explain  his  language, 
oppose  his  statements,  cite  his  a\ithority.  For  Simonides,  with  his 
Ionic  grace,  his  knowledge  of  life,  his  elegant  clearness,  is  almost  an 
Athenian.  And  his  clever,  persuasive  art  was  fitted  to  please  the 
contemporaries  of  Euripides  and  Aristophanes. 

15.    Pindar.  —  "  Pindar,"  said  Quintilian,  *•  is  far  in  the  lead  of  the 


138  Greek  Literature 

nine  lyric  poets  "  (novem  lyricorum  longe  princeps).  He  was  no  more 
an  innovator  than  Simonides,  strictly  speaking,  so  far  as  concerns 
the  technique  of  his  art.  But  he  brought  to  lyric  poetry  the  boldest 
imagination,  the  loftiest  accent,  that  had  been  heard  till  then ;  and 
to  express  his  inspiration,  he  always  found,  in  the  matter  of  rhythms 
'and  words,  the  most  expressive  and  beautiful  forms.  By  a  happy 
circumstance,  we  have  more  than  forty  of  his  poems  preserved  in- 
tact, reflecting  faithfully  the  image  of  his  genius.^ 

Pindar  was  born  at  Cynoscephalae,  near  the  gates  of  Thebes,  of 
which  city  he  was  a  citizen.  His  birth  appears  to  have  been  in  521, 
about  twenty  years  aTCefThat  of  Simonides.  A  passage  in  one  of  his 
odes  ^  leads  us  to  think  that,  although  a  Theban,  he  belonged  to  the 
illustrious  Doric  family  of  the  ^l^gidae,  which  had  its  branches 
in  various  cities  of  the  Peloponnesus  at  the  time  of  the  Dorian 
migrations.  Pindar  devoted  himself  early  to  lyric  com|X)sition. 
The  gods  themselves,  in  his  infancy,  had  commended  to  him  his 
vocation :  one  day  some  bees  dropped  honey  on  his  lips  while  he  slept. 
Boeotia  gave  him  his  first  teachers;  and  he  is  said  to  have  studied 
under  the  flute-player,  Scopelinus  ;  then  with  the  poetesses,  Corinna 
■and  Myrto.  He  came  also  to  Athens,  where  he  is  said  to  have  met 
the  dithyrambic  poet,  Lasos  of  Henaione,  and  several  others.  The 
first  certain  incident  of  his  poetic  life  is  the  composition,  when  he 
was  only  twenty,  of  the  Tenth  Pytldan  Ode,  in  501.  In  the  time  of  the 
Persian  Wars,  Thebes  openly  took  sides  with  the  invaders.  Polybius 
accuses  Pindar  of  having,  under  these  circumstances,  encouraged  the 
anti-Hellenic  tendencies  of  his  fellow-citizens.'"'  But  the  verses  cited 
in  support  of  his  assertion  do  not  appear  to  have  quite  the  bearing 
he  ascribes  to  them.  It  is  certain,  too,  tliat  Pindar  went  from 
Thebes  to  the  patriotic  /Egina,  wliere  he  remained,  composing 
numerous  odes,  during  almost  the  Avhole  time  of  the  second  Persian 
"War.  Later  he  is  seen  celebrating  again  and  again  the  role  of 
Athens  in  the  Persian  Wars.  For  this  celebration  the  city  is  said 
to  have  rewarded  him  splendidly.*      These  facts  are  none  too  well 

1  BiRMOGRAPHY  :  Principal  editions;  Bockli  (2  vols,  in  4  parts),  Leipsic, 
1811-1H21,  a  niomuneiital  work  ;  Dissen.  Leipsic.  18;-{0  (revised  by  Schneidewin, 
1<h4o-1)S47),  with  full  commentary  ;  Bergk,  in  I'ocUf  L>jrici  Grceci,  I  (sup.  rit.)  ; 
Christ  (text  ed.),  Teubner,  1878,  and,  with  prolefjomena  and  notes,  Teubner, 
189t)  ;  Schriider,  Teubner,  1!K)0.  English  edition  with  notes  by  Fennell, 
2  vols.,  Cambridge,  IS'.K]  ;  Olympian  and  Pythian  Odes,  Gildersleeve,  Xew  York, 
1885  ;  Nemcan  and  Isthmian  Odes,  Bury,  2  vols.,  London  and  New  York,  1890. 

French  translations  by  Boissonade  (published  by  Egger  in  1867)  and  by 
Povard,  ls.j.'3.  English  translation  in  prose  by  Myers,  and  in  verse  by  Francis 
Cary  (18:;:;). 

Consult  A.  Croiset,  La  poesie  de  J'indnrt',  Paris,  1st  ed.,  1880;  C.  Caspar, 
l^ssai  dr.  rhronolo'jie  Findariqxie,  Bru.ssels,  lUOO. 

-  I'lith.  V.  100.  2  Polybius,  IV,  31.  *  Isocrates,  Antidosis,  160. 


Melic  Poetry  139 

in  agreement  with  the  role  ascribed  to  him  by  Polybius.  During 
the  fifteen  or  twenty  years  after  the  battle  of  Salamis  we  see  Pindar 
in  the  very  height  of  his  fame,  associating  with  the  princes  and 
the  great  men  of  all  parts  of  the  Greek  world :  Hiero  of  Syracuse, 
Thero  of  Agrigentum,  Arcesilaus  of  Cyrene,  Chromius  of  Agrigen- 
tum,  and  many  others.  Although  lyric  poets  were  not  always 
expected  to  supervise  in  person  the  rendering  of  their  poems,  yet 
he  must  have  made  numerous  voyages.  In  476,  apparently,  he  went 
to  Syracuse.  He  saw  MounT'^EItna,  which  he  describes  magnifi- 
cently, and  he  visited  the  principal  cities  of  Sicily.  His  residence 
with  Hiero  and  Thero  appears  to  have  continued  several  years. 
Probably  he  also  went  to  Cyrene,  if  one  may  judge  from  a  few 
picturesque  words  on  that  city  in  an  ode  to  Arcesilaus.  The  ancients 
enumerate  also  a  king  of  Macedon,  Alexander  I,  son  of  Amyntas, 
among  Pindar's  admirers  and  patrons;  and  it  is  knoAvn  that,  in 
memory  of  these  relations,  Alexander  the  Great,  a  century  later, 
while  attacking  Thebes,  spared  the  home  of  the  Theban  poet.  The 
last  ode  that  we  can  date  with  certainty  is  the  Eighth  Fijthian, 
addressed  to  an  -32ginetan  in  446.  One  biographer  says  that  Pindar 
died  at  eighty,  consequently  in  441.  His  glory  was  immense  even 
in  his  lifetime.  An  ode  that  he  wrote  for  Diagoras  of  Rhodes  was 
inscribed  in  letters  of  gold  on  the  temple  of  Athene  at  Lindos. 
Pindar  was  classic  immediately  after  his  death.  Herodotus  already 
cited  him.  The  Athenian  comic  writers  parodied  and  quoted  his 
verses  ;  and  this  was  really  a  way  of  doing  him  homage.  Plato 
borrowed  some  of  his  fine  thoughts  and  expressions. 

His  poetry,  divided  first  into  seventeen  books,  and  then  into  nine, 
included  all  the  types  of  the  choral  lyric  :  hymns,  pagans,  hypor- 
chemas,  prosodia,  parthenia,  encomia,  threnodies,  and  epinicia.  The 
total  formed  probably  twenty-four  thousand  cola.  Of  this,  we  have 
about  one-fourth:  four  complete  books  of  the  seventeen  (the 
epinicia) ;  or,  of  the  twenty-four  thousand  cola,  about  six  thousand, 
five  hundred  of  which  are  in  fragments.  It  is  much  to  be  regretted 
that  we  can  no  longer  appreciate  from  adequate  knowledge  the 
sweet  charm  of  his  parthenia,  the  sprightly,  familiar  liberty  of  his 
scolia  and  hyporchenias,  or  the  brilliance  of  his  dithyrambs.  Ikit 
the  misfortune  is  less  than  it  would  seem  to  be  at  first  sight.  For 
his  e])inicia  have  a  great  range  of  tone,  approaching  now  this,  now 
that,  type ;  and  the  fragments  enable  us  to  complete  somewhat  satis- 
factorily the  indications  given  by  the  extant  odes.  Accordingly  we 
can  form  a  fairly  jiist  and  definite  idea  of  I'indar. 

His  thouglit,  regarded  from  whatever  point  of  view,  impresses 
one  immediately  as  grand  and  lofty.     His  religious  and  moral  phi- 


140  Greek  Literature 

losophy  is  quite  different  from  that  of  Simonides.  For  while  the 
latter  admonishes  us  to  regard  life  as  a  mere  pastime,  the  former 
habitually  takes  it  in  all  seriousness.  Pindar  is  really  serious.  He 
is  a  Dorian,  perhaps  by  race,  and  at  least  in  his  tendencies,  is  a  lofty, 
majestic  spirit,  a  friend  of  law  and  order.  There  is,  to  be  sure, 
nothing  ascetic  in  him  ;  he  is  too  much  a  poet  and  a  Greek  for  that. 
Though  he  can  adapt  himself  to  circumstances  and  even  smile,  yet 
for  the  most  part  he  seeks  the  noble  and  the  sublime. 

His  gods  have  an  incomparable  grandeur.  They  have  the  same 
names  as  those  of  Homer,  but  often  they  resemble  the  God  of 
Bossuet :  — 

"  God  alone,"  he  says  in  one  place,  '^  brings  all  to  pass  according 
to  His  expectation  —  God,  who  overtakes  the  eagle  in  his  rapid 
flight,  and  outruns  the  dolphin  in  the  depths  of  the  sea  —  God,  who 
humbles  the  proud  spirit  of  mortals,  and  transfers  from  one  to 
another  the  glory  that  prevents  them  from  all  becoming  old."  ^ 

No  miracle  coming  from  the  divinity  seemed  to  him  hard  to  be- 
lieve, for  he  could  assign  no  limits  to  God's  power.^  The  gods  know 
all.  It  is  not  a  crow,  as  in  the  legend,  who  informs  Apollo  of  the 
unfaithfulness  of  Coronis, but  his  own  divine  insight  —  "the swiftest 
of  messengers  "  ;  for  ''  deception  comes  not  nigh  him  ;  and  neither 
mortal  nor  god  could,  by  taking  thought,  elude  his  never  failing 
sight."  ^  Elsewhere,  when  the  god  interrogates  the  Centaur  Chiron 
about  the  nymph  Cyrene,  the  Centaur  answers :  — 

"  Thou,  who  canst  not  glance  at  error,  speakest  thus  owing,  doubt- 
less, to  some  mere  smiling  fantasy.  Dost  thou  ask  me  the  lineage  of 
this  maid  —  thou,  0  king,  who  knowest  the  goal  to  which  all  things 
tend,  knowest  all  the  ways  along  which  they  go ;  and  how  many 
leaves  in  spring  the  earth  puts  forth,  and  how  many  pebbles,  in  the 
sea  and  in  the  rivers,  are  stirred  by  the  caresses  of  the  waves  — 
knowest  what  is  to  be,  and  the  causes  of  all  that  shall  come  to  pass  ?  "  ^ 

When  the  old  legends  do  not  suit  the  pure  idea  that  he  has  con- 
ceived of  the  gods,  he  rejects  or  alters  them,  as  we  have  seen  in  the 
story  of  Coronis.  And  there  are  plenty  of  other  examples.  There  was 
a  legend  that  Heracles  one  day  strove  alone  against  three  gods:  — 

'•  Sj)eak  not  such  language,  0  my  lips  I  Blasphemy  against  the 
gods  is  ])ut  foolish  wisdom;  and  boastfulness,  uncalled  for,  is  folly. 
Enougli  of  your  senseless  babbling.  Neither  war  nor  contest  may 
ap})roach  the  immortals."  ^ 

"0  son  of  Tantalus,"  he  says  elsewhere,  "I  shall  speak  of  thee 
otherwise  tlian  did  our  fathers.  .   .  .     ^lore  fitting  is  it  for  man  to 

1  Pyth.  II.  89.  3  Pdd.  III.  AC-M.  '•>  Olymp.  IX,  54. 

-  Ibid.  X,  77.  *  Ibid.  IX,  75  ff. 


Melic  Poetry  141 

speak  in  high  praise  of  the  gods  :  then  if  he  err,  his  fault  is  not  so 
great."  ^ 

Whence  came  to  Pindar  these  high  ideas  ?  From  Orpheus  ? 
From  Pythagoras  ?  or  from  some  other  philosophic  doctrine  ?  His 
theology  has  not  the  air  of  a  sect  or  a  school ;  it  is  not  esoteric. 
He  certainly  read  Xenophanes,  however,  and,  like  many  other  noble 
minds  of  his  time,  he  felt  the  influence  exercised  on  religious  con- 
ceptions generally  by  the  progress  of  Greek  thinking. 

His  moral  tone  shows  the  same  spirit.  He  follows  tradition, 
yet  purities  it.  Man's  weakness  is  great,  yet  not  beyond  the  reach 
of  hope.  With  the  aid  of  the  gods,  man  can  arrive  at  happiness 
and  glory.  / 

"  Ephemeral  creatures,  what  are  we,  and  what  not  ?     Man  is  but 
the  dream  of  a  shadow.      Yet  when  the  gods  throw  on  him   one       'j<^ 
bright  ray,  a  brilliant  light  surrounds  him,  and  his  life  is  sweet."  - 

Pindar  abounds  in  strong  expressions  on  human  misery,  but  his 
melancholy  is  neither  feeble  nor  discouraged.  In  spite  of  all,  he  is 
the  bard  of  happy  life.  The  good  things  of  which  he  sings  are  not 
too  refined,  but  simply  youth  escorted  by  love  and  beauty,  and  plain 
things  such  as  riches,  power,  and  glory.  His  ideal  is  derived  from 
the  brilliant  performances  really  given  at  Olympia,  Delphi,  and 
Nemea. 

The  condition  of  happiness  is  virtue,  in  the  ancient  sense  of  the 
term,  —  which  is  to  say,  a  combination  of  intellectual,  moral,  and 
physical  qualities.  It  comes  from  the  gods.  Human  industry  can 
achieve  nothing  without  the  graces  —  that  is,  without  the  gods.  The 
noblest  virtues  are  those  which,  with  their  own  hands,  the  gods  have 
planted  in  human  hearts.  And  it  is  not  merely  the  individual,  but 
the  whole  race,  that  the  gods  make  weak  or  strong.  The  virtues  of 
the  individual  come  to  him  from  his  race.  A  strongly  aristocratic 
sentiment  permeates  all  of  Pindar's  conceptions. 

Morality  is  not  something  to  parley  with,  but  something  which 
gives  commands  and  imposes  laws.  Pindar  does  not,  like  Simon- 
ides,  speak  in  fine-spun  dialectic  ;  he  proclaims  eternal  truths  and 
gives  oracular  responses. 

Hut,  we  may  ask,  what  responses  and  what  truths  ?  If  he 
speaks  of  the  city,  his  ideal  is  one  of  good  order  and  discipline. 
The  old  Doric  laws  of  .Egimius,  the  divine  eunomy  guaranteed  by 
the  government  of  the  wise,  this  is  his  wish.  In  private  life,  to 
honor  the  gods  and  to  respect  one's  parents  are  the  first  necessary 
maxims.     One  should  be  just  toward  men  —  nay  more,  one  should 

1  (Jhjnip.  I,  G4-o9.  -  Fyth.  VIII,  135  ff. 


142  Greek  Literature 

be  gentle,  prompt  to  pardon,  a  foe  to  flattery,  a  friend  to  truth.  Of 
the  goodness  of  Thero  and  the  charm  of  his  friendship,  he  has  said 
exquisitely :  — 

"  The  grains  of  sand  defy  enumeration :  but  the  joys  which  he 
has  brought  his  fellow-men,  who  shall  number  ?  "  ^ 

"  Friends  are  useful  in  many  ways,  especially  in  trouble  ;  but 
joy,  too,  searches  for  friendship's  faithful  glance."  * 

It  goes  without  saying  that,  among  the  essential  virtues,  he  does 
not  forget  the  moderation  so  often  celebrated  by  the  moralists  of 
Greece,  nor  the  courageous  energy  (rdA/xa)  of  Avhich  his  ordinary 
clients,  the  victors  in  the  athletic  games,  constantly  gave  him  the 
example. 

This  natural  loftiness  of  ideas  marks  his  elegies  with  a  character 
of  high  dignity.  Pindar,  though  he  passed  his  life  in  praise  of  men, 
is  no  flatterer.  He  is  conscious  of  his  own  merit  and  maintains  his 
independence.  In  the  words  of  a  biographer,  he  would  live  for  him- 
self, not  for  others.  His  poetic  pride  kept  him  from  base  subservi- 
ence. To  express  the  beauty  of  his  own  songs,  he  has  a  multitude 
of  brilliant,  original  expressions :  he  compares  himself  to  a  sculptor 
creating  winged,  living  statues ;  ^  or  to  the  eagle  of  Zeus,  that,  with 
a  stroke  of  its  wings,  mounts  quite  to  heaven,  leaving  far  below  him 
the  noisy  flock  of  crows.*  He  knows  the  worth  of  the  service  he 
renders  even  to  the  kings  whom  he  eulogizes  ;  his  naming  them 
makes  them  immortal.  This  allows  him,  with  the  necessary  courtesy 
of  eulogy,  to  maintain  the  attitude  of  a  free  man.  lie  is  the  friend, 
and,  in  glory,  almost  the  equal,  of  his  princely  patrons.  With  pru- 
dence and  good  taste,  he  can  even  make  them  accept  wise  counsel. 
He  excels  in  this  delicate  task.  His  odes  for  Hiero  and  Arcesilaus 
show  clearly  what  he  thoiight  he  had  the  right  to  say,  and  under 
what  conditions.  The  lessons  he  addresses  to  his  patrons  are  gen- 
eral in  form  even  when  their  intent  is  ])articular.  There  is  never  an 
allusion  born  of  malignity,  nor  even  a  biting  epigram,  certain  scholiasts 
to  the  contrary  notwithstanding.  To  an  indiscreet  prelate  of  Louis 
XIV,  tliat  king  said :  "  Father,  I  like  to  choose  my  part  in  a  sermon, 
not  to  Ije  forced  to  take  it."  Pindar  is  no  such  indiscreet  counsellor, 
neither  is  he  a  flatterer  for  hire.  "With  his  innate  taste  for  law, 
order,  and  categorical  morality,  and  the  proud  consciousness  he  had 
of  his  genius,  he  readily  turned  his  very  eulogies  into  counsels  and 
exhortations. 

His  literary  style,  as  with  all  artists  of  the  first  order,  is  mar- 
vellously in  accord  with  the  nature  of  his  thought.     His  real  charac- 

1  Olymp.  II,  179.      •^  Nem.  VIII,  71.       »  Ibid.  V,  1  ff.      *  Objmp.  II,  154  fE. 


Melic  Poetry  143 

teristic,  amid  all  the  shades  of  expression  due  to  diversity  of 
circumstances  or  of  literary  types,  is  a  thoroughly  original  inanner 
of  seeing  things  in  a  general  view  and  collectively,  with  a  search- 
ing, yet  synthetic  and  summary  glance.  He  does  not  analyze ;  in 
this  respect  he  is  not  Attic,  nor  even  Ionic.  In  the  depiction  of 
an  object  or  an  idea,  he  gives  at  once  the  dominant  impression,  and 
that  with  a  concentrated,  quick  vigor.  A  trait,  a  word,  is  suffi- 
cient ;  but  the  word  is  incisive,  the  trait  shines  like  an  electric 
spark.  The  vivacity  of  his  impressions  sometimes  resembles  the 
emotion  of  deep  sensibility.  We  must  not  be  deceived,  however ; 
all  these  emotions  are  felt  in  the  lofty  region  of  general  ideas  and 
pretty  images.  His  lyric  poetry,  to  use  the  Greek  expression,  is 
hesychastic  ;  he  has  more  pure  reason  and  less  real  sensibility  than 
Simonides.  The  absence  of  analysis  brings  into  relief  his  summary 
style ;  but  on  the  other  hand,  since  no  passion  carries  him  away  to  prej- 
udice, the  general  movement  of  his  thought  is  noble  and  magnificent. 
Horace  compares  him  to  an  overflowing  river.^  The  image  is  a 
beautiful  and  a  just  one.  A  torrent  with  its  mass  of  water,  troubled 
and  deep,  well  represents  the  immense  effectiveness  of  his  synthetic 
style,  sometimes  tumultuous  in  detail,  yet  animated,  as  a  whole,  by 
an  impetus  simple  and  imposing. 

His  dialectic  is  the  modified,  literary  Doric  which,  after  Stesicho- 
rus,  became  the  language  of  convention  for  the  polite  lyric. 

His  vocabulary  is  one  of  extreme  boldness.  His  work  abounds 
above  all  in  images,  brilliant  metaphors,  expressive  periphrases, 
epithets,  and  groups  of  new  and  striking  words.  All  visible  nature 
is  reflected  in  his  imagination ;  but  at  the  same  time  his  thought, 
being  naturally  philosophic,  penetrates  and  spiritualizes  nature.  The 
abstract  and  the  concrete  are  mingled  in  his  style  in  the  most  sur- 
prising manner,  rendering  it  both  plastic  and  philosophic,  figurative 
and  general.  Speaking  of  the  Symplegades,  the  rocks  that  approach 
each  other  to  crush  navigators,  he  says  :  ''  The  irresistible  motion 
of  the  rocks  that  approach  each  other."  Elsewhere,  Jason  invokes 
"the  rapidly  forwarding  rush  of  the  winds  and  waves.''  Pindar 
loves  to  use  the  plural  of  abstract  nouns,  as  if  to  magnify  the  idea. 
Likewise,  according  to  Buffon's  precept,  he  loves  the  word  that  is 
*'  most  general,"  showing  not  only  the  particular  object,  but  the 
character  of  that  object.  The  victory  of  his  hero  is  constantly 
named  Ti/u.d,  x^P'?'  y^po-'^y  ^^  his  verses.  All  these  traits,  though  more 
or  less  common  to  Greek  lyric  poets,  are  found  to  an  unusual  extent 
in  Pindar,  and  impart  to  his  style  an  extraordinary  brilliance.  This 
is  true  also  of  the  double  epithets  {SivXal  Ae'^eis),  which  lyric  poets 

1  Odes,  IV,  2,  5-8. 


144  Greek  Literature 

had  the  right  to  create  freely,  but  which  he  employed  most,  or  at 
least  with  greatest  boldness.  Above  all,  the  different  types  of  bold 
figures  which  we  distinguish  in  our  classifications  are  mingled  in 
his  style  and  superimposed  on  one  another.  Their  rays  cross,  throw- 
ing out  a  thousand  lights  at  once.  Nowhere  can  there  be  found  so 
often  verses  that  are  absolutely  untranslatable  into  an  analytic 
modern  language. 

His  sentences  are  often  brief ;  but  sometimes  they  are  very  long, 
extending  through  more  than  a  whole  strophe.  In  such  cases,  they 
are  never  periodic  after  the  manner  of  oratory,  but  are  a  flood  of  sou- 
venirs and  images,  recalling  each  other  in  the  poet's  mind  as  his  song 
proceeds.  He  advances  by  brusque  association  of  ideas,  not  by  logi- 
cal succession.  The  sentences  are  not  joined  closely;  they  seem 
always  on  the  point  of  ending,  and  then  go  on  with  but  loose  connec- 
tion. As  one  reads  them,  they  come  as  if  in  waves ;  but  they  were 
written  for  music,  and  that  brought  out  the  true  value  of  the 
splendid,  luminous  words  of  which  they  are  composed. 

When  Pindar  tells  a  story,  he  is  not,  like  an  epic,  or  even  an  Ionic 
poet,  at  pains  to  follow  the  regular  order  of  events,  or  to  put  them 
successively  before  our  eyes.  He  proceeds  with  vivid,  sparkling 
allusions,  hurrying  from  picture  to  picture,  and  interspersing  these 
with  maxims.  It  is  only  a  resume  that  he  traces;  but  he  writes 
it,  as  it  were,  in  letters  of  gold. 

The  composition  of  his  odes  has  given  rise  in  modern  times  to 
long  and  fastidious  discussions.  In  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth 
centuries,  the  adversaries  of  the  classics,  good  reasoners,  though  not 
highly  poetic,  and  almost  strangers  to  antiquity,  were  offended  or 
amused  by  his  '"digressions."  Boileau,  for  example,  judged  that,  in 
an  ode,  "  Souvent  uu  beau  desordre  est  \\\\  effet  de  I'art,"  '  though 
without  knowing  too  well  just  what  the  phrase  ''  gracefi;l  disorder" 
signified.  In  our  day,  scholars  who  have  tried  to  free  I'indar  from 
these  traditional  rei)roaches  have  sometimes  rather  ridiculously  ex- 
aggerated the  unity  of  the  Pindaric  ode.  In  reality  tlie  question  is 
simple  enough,  and  does  not  merit  all  tlie  discussion  it  has  called 
forth. 

These  jirt'tended  digressions,  or  in  other  words,  the  mythic  part 
of  the  odes,  all  liave  a  rather  intimate  connection  with  the  occasion 
of  the  victory,  in  that  tht\v  are  borrowed  from  the  legendary  story  of 
the  games  in  wlii(;h  tlie  victory  was  won.  from  tliat  of  the  victor's 
country,  or  from  that  of  his  family.  "We  liavc  already  said,  in  treat- 
ing of  Simonidt'S,  tliat  those  legends,  for  contemporary  Greeks,  were 
almost  history  as  wdi  as  poetry  ;  as  history,  they  were  more  inter- 
'  [••  Disiiriler  is  often  L:ract-ful  ;uk1  llien  .shows  the  presence  of  art."  — Tr. ] 


Melic  Poetry  145 

esting  than  ordinary  narrative  because  they  were  more  beautifully 
poetic.  The  individual  was  so  closely  associated  with  his  race  and 
city  that  the  eulogy  of  these  latter  was,  in  his  eyes,  the  equivalent 
of  his  own. 

The  art  of  a  poet,  especially  of  a  Pindar,  could  subordinate  variety 
to  a  certain  unity  of  tone  which  should  make  of  the  whole  poem  a 
living  work,  a  ^wov  ev  o\ov,  in  the  neat  expression  of  the  Greek  philos- 
ophers. Nor  need  we,  as  do  certain  German  scholars,  so  restrict 
this  unity  that  we  must  try  to  iind  in  every  ode  of  Pindar  either  the 
rigorous  development  of  a  general  idea,  or  a  sort  of  ideal  portrait  of 
the  hero.  The  unity  of  the  lyric  poem  did  not  necessitate  such 
rigor.  Every  poem  had  a  ''  lyric  idea  "  which  was  its  centre  and  its 
unity.  But  the  lyric  idea  Avas  due  to  the  music  as  much  as  to  the 
poetry.  It  cannot  always  be  stated  in  a  formal  proposition,  any 
more  than  the  musical  idea  of  a  symphon}'  can.  Enough  that  a  cer- 
tain interlacing  of  images  and  thoughts,  recalling  one  another  like 
the  notes  of  a  song,  are  colored  by  the  poet's  imagination  so  as  to 
leave  in  the  mind  of  the  reader  or  hearer  a  clear  and  distinct  gen- 
eral impression.  The  Fourteenth  Olympic  Ode,  so  graceful  in  its 
brevity,  has  for  its  fundamental  theme  the  eulogy  of  the  Graces, 
goddesses  of  Orchomenos.  Around  this  central  idea  are  arranged  and 
organized  all  the  secondary  ideas  given  by  the  circumstances,  and  the 
resulting  supple  unity  is  delightful.  In  the  First  Pythian  Ode, 
which  has  provoked  so  much  discussion,  the  genei'al  idea  is  both 
nowhere  and  everywhere.  It  is  nowhere,  if  we  seek  to  find  it  ex- 
pressed in  an  abstract  manner ;  yet  it  inspires  the  whole  poem.  It 
consists  essentially  in  the  parallelism  so  profoundly  felt  and  so 
strongly  expressed  between  the  sensible  harmony  of  the  music  and 
the  superior  harmony  of  the  moral  life ;  or  rather,  it  is  in  the  su])er- 
pcsition  of  the  latter  on  the  former,  and  in  the  view  by  which  Pin- 
dar passes  from  the  splendor  of  the  visible  feast  to  the  invisible 
beauty  of  virtue,  which,  though  great  in  the  soul  of  Hiero,  that 
prince  must  foster  still  more  every  day. 

Ordinarily  the  particular  ideas  grouped  under  the  domination  of 
thfi  princi]xil  idea  are  very  simply  arranged.  In  the  beginning,  the 
])oet  mentions  the  particular  occasion  for  his  song;  the  middle  j)art 
of  the  ode  is  devoted  to  myths  ;  tinally,  the  poet  returns  to  his  hero, 
oniuneratcs  his  other  victcn'ies,  and  exliorts  him  to  win  still  more. 
Tliis  i)lan  is  sometimes  modified,  however,  or  ingeniously  complicated; 
but  one  may  say  that  it  is  the  normal  plan  of  most  of  Pindar's  odes. 
The  very  division  of  the  poem  into  triads  and  strophes  accentuates 
its  composition.  It  is  rare  that  the  first  and  the  last  group  of  ideas 
should  not  each  fill  a  triad  in  the  longer  odes;  whereas  the  mvths 


146  Greek  Literature 

occupy  one,  two,  or  more  triads  according  to  the  length  of  the  poem. 
Perhaps  the  division  at  the  end  of  each  strophe  or  triad  is  not  abso- 
lutely clear :  certain  phrases  begin  in  one  line  and  finish  in  the  next, 
and  the  thought  may  be  similarly  carried  on;  but  the  general 
arrangement  is  quite  clear. 

Although  we  no  longer  have  any  complete  odes  beside  the 
epinicia,  we  may  say  that  the  general  rules  of  composition  and  style 
were  applied  elsewhere  in  a  very  analogous  manner.  Even  in  default 
of  fragments,  good  sense  would  lead  to  sucli  a  conclusion. 

Pindaric  art,  in  which  magnificence  and  splendor  are  so  originally 
associated,  is  in  many  ways  further  removed  from  us  than  the  other 
forms  of  Greek  art.  It  corresponds  to  a  culture  more  particular  than 
that  of  epic  or  tragedy.  It  is  the  best  expression  of  the  aristocratic, 
semi-Doric  civilization  of  the  beginning  of  the  fifth  century.  It  was 
natural  that  neither  La  Motte  nor  even  Voltaire  should  take  much 
pleasure  in  it.  We  are  in  a  better  condition  to-day  to  feel  its  rare 
beauty  and  to  enjoy  in  this  harmonious  creation  the  most  perfect 
image  of  a  fleeting  moment  in  the  ideal  life  of  Greece. 

16.  Bacchylides.  —  Younger  than  Pindar  by  twenty  years,  Bac- 
chylides,  a  nephew  of  Simonides,  was  born,  like  his  uncle,  at  lulis 
in  the  island  of  Ceos.  The  date  was  not  far  from  500.  His  life 
appears  to  have  been  spent  in  the  exercise  of  his  art  and  in  tlie 
travels  made  necessary  thereby,  yet  one  cannot  fix  its  details  with 
precision.  He  is  said  to  have  resided  at  the  court  of  Hiero  at  the 
same  time  as  Simonides  and  Pindar.  In  fact,  three  of  his  odes  were 
dedicated  to  tlie  tyrant  of  Syracuse  in  476,  472,  and  468.  Plutarch 
says  that  Bacchylides  was  exiled  from  Ceos ;  yet  we  know  neitlier 
the  cause  nor  the  date  of  this  exile.  One  of  his  odes  was  written  in 
452.^  This  is  the  last  date  of  his  life  that  can  be  fixed  with  cer- 
tainty. 

His  works,  like  those  of  Simonides  and  Pindar,  are  in  all  the 
varieties  of  choral  lyric  poetry.  Till  the  year  1897,  only  some  fifty 
fragments  of  his  poems  were  known ;  and  of  these,  only  two  or  three 
were  of  any  length.  To-day,  thanks  to  an  Egyptian  papyrus  in  the 
British  Museum,  we  possess  twenty  more  or  less  mutilated  poems  of 
his,  coni[)rising  nearly  fourteen  hundred  verses.^  Of  these  twenty 
poems,  tlie  first  fourteen  are  triumphal  odes ;  the  other  six  are  of 
various   types.      They    include,   apparently,   a    heroic    hymn,   two 

1  0<h^  VI,  to  Lachon.  Cf.  Grenfell  and  Hunt.  Oj-yrrhynchns  Papyri  (1889), 
II.  p.  Ul,  n.  18. 

-  BiHi.iooRArnY  :  Editio  princeps  by  Kenyon,  Tlie  Poems  of  Bacchylides, 
London,  1807.  A  fine  edition  by  Bla.ss,  Bacchylidis  Carmina,  Tenbner,  1808. 
French  translation  by  Desrousseaux.  Paris,  Hacliette,  1898.  English  transla- 
tion in  prose  by  Poste,  London  and  New  York,  1898. 


Melic  Poetry  147 

paeans,  and  three  dithyrambs  or  fragments  of  dithyrambs.  The 
triumphal  odes  are  composed  after  a  plan  like  that  of  Pindar.  This 
shows  that  the  laws  of  invention  were  fixed  for  the  type  as  early  as 
the  time  of  Simonides.  Of  the  other  six  poems,  the  most  interest- 
ing are  certainly  the  last  three,  and  it  is  impossible  not  to  regard 
these  as  dithyrambs.  We  have  not  even  one  long  specimen  of  this 
lyric  form,  though  it  held  so  great  a  place  in  the  history  of  the 
origin  of  tragedy.  The  first  of  the  three,  entitled  Theseus,  is  a 
dialogue  in  four  strophes,  between  ^geus,  king  of  Athens,  and  a 
chorus  representing  the  Athenians.  In  summary,  it  is  as  follows : 
1st  strophe  (the  chorus) :  "  What  is  happening,  0  king  ?  "  2d  strophe 
{the  king) :  "A  messenger  announces  to  me  the  return  of  a  wonder- 
ful hero."  3d  strophe  (the  chorus) :  "  What  sort  of  hero  ? "  ^i^ 
strophe  {the  king) :  "  A  very  young  man,  almost  a  child,  followed  by 
two  companions."  There  is  no  other  example  in  Greek  lyric  poetry 
of  such  a  dialogue,  which  is  already  very  close  to  drama.  This  is 
evidently  a  mere  fragment  of  a  longer  poem,  but  it  is  singularly 
instructive.  The  other  two  dithyrambic  fragments  are  much  muti- 
lated, especially  the  latter.  The  former,  entitled  lo,  is  a  pathetic 
description  of  the  wanderings  of  lo. 

The  author  of  the  Treatise  on  the  Sublime  classifies  Bacchylides 
among  the  "  faultless  "  poets,  whose  style  is  "  polished  and  brilliant 
at  every  point."  ^  In  other  words,  he  considers  him  a  poet  of  more 
talent  than  genius.  The  fragments  long  since  known  justified  this 
appreciation.  The  new  poems,  without  essentially  modifying  the 
impression  given  by  the  fragments,  allow  us  to  complete  it,  and,  in 
short,  to  do  Bacchylides  somewhat  fuller  justice.  The  clever  artist 
was  really  a  charming  poet,  less  original  than  Simonides,  who  was 
his  master  and  model,  less  grand  than  Pindar,  whom  he  also 
imitated  at  times,  but  with  an  alert,  copious  invention,  a  lively 
imagination,  a  flowing,  brilliant  style,  and  a  wealth  of  words  truly 
remarkable.  He  names  himself  the  "  nightingale  of  Ceos,  sweet- 
voiced  as  honey,"  /xeAtyXwo-o-ov  .  .  .  x^-P'-^  Kt/mis  dT/Sdvo?.-  The  appre- 
ciation is  perfectly  just.  His  sweetness  was,  moreover,  often 
associated  with  poetic  grandeur.  With  finely  chosen  words,  he 
compares  the  soaring  of  his  ode,  which  he  is  sending  over  sea  to 
Syracuse,  with  the  flight  of  an  eagle :  — 

"  Cleaving  the  immense  ether,  high  in  air,  the  eagle,  with  its 
swift,  tawny  wings,  messenger  of  mighty  Zeus,  who  hurls  the  noisy 
thunderbolt,  trusts  boldly  to  its  invincible  might;  and  the  birds  of 
song  hide  themselves  in  fear.  Neither  do  the  peaks  of  the  vast 
earth  restrain  it,  nor  the  dread  waves  of  the  untiring  ocean.     It 

1  Treatise  on  the  Sublime,  c.  .3.3,  5.  2  m,  9,3_98. 


148  Greek  Literature 

makes  its  way  through  infinite  space,  exposing  its  downy  plumage 
to  the  breezes  of  the  zephyr ;  and  men  know  its  approach."  ^ 

One  sees  thoroughly  well  in  this  fine  passage  the  analytic  process 
of  Bacchylides,  so  different  from  the  vigorous  syntheses  of  Pindar, 
but  so  clever  in  harmonizing  carefulness  in  detail  with  grandeur  of 
general  effect.  He  excels  particularly  in  his  speeches,  which  are  as 
copious  in  his  odes  as  tliey  are  brief  and  rare  in  those  of  Pindar. 
Bacchylides  aims,  like  Simonides,  to  disclose  a  complex  idea  so  that 
the  reasoning  shall  be  logical.  His  work  shows,  at  times,  some 
excellent  speeches,  brilliant  or  pathetic  by  turns,  such  as  that  of 
Croesus  on  his  funeral  pyre,  or  that  of  Theseus  at  the  court  of 
Minos. 

A  striking  trait  in  his  epinicia  is  that,  though  obtaining  his 
myth,  like  Pindar,  from  the  traditional  sacred  sources,  one  does  not 
always  see  so  clearly  why  he  has  chosen  such  and  such  a  partic- 
ular episode,  or  what  harmony  exists  between  the  sense  and  color 
of  the  myth  and  the  tone  of  the  poem  in  general.  In  this  respect 
it  seems  that  Bacchylides  composed  less  artistically  or  less  carefully 
than  Pindar.  He  seems  to  seek  rather  the  brilliant  expression  than 
harmony  of  the  whole.  This  may  be  cleverness  growing  weary  of 
the  observation  of  rules;  it  may  be  also  that  Bacchylides,  showy 
and  superficial,  cannot  discover,  as  Pindar  can,  the  thousand  hidden 
meanings  in  the  i)articular  occasion  of  his  song  that  give  a  circum- 
stance its  true  significance.  His  thought  is  not  especially  powerful, 
though  his  imagination  is  ready. 

In  short,  without  really  being  of  the  first  order,  Bacchylides  w\as 
judged  by  the  Alexandrians  worthy  of  a  place  in  their  canon  among 
the  nine  most  excellent  poets  of  Greece.  And  posterity  has  not 
adopted  a  different  opinion. 

17.  Lesser  Poets.  —  One  would  get  a  very  inexact  idea  of  the 
literary  activity  of  Greece  at  the  end  of  the  sixth  century  and  the 
beginning  of  the  fifth,  if  one  considered  the  lyric  production  of 
the  period  as  limited  to  the  works  of  the  three  or  four  great  poets 
whom  we  have  just  studied. 

The  trutli  is  that  there  were  lyric  poets  in  abundance.  Many  a 
city  had  its  ])oets  as  it  had  its  choruses  of  dancers.  Most  of  them 
have  disappeared  without  leaving  a  trace  behind  ;  others  have  left 
little  more  tlian  a  name.  Without  entering  into  useless  enumeration, 
one  yet  finds  some  that  merit  passing  mention.  Such  are  Lasos  of 
Hermione  in  .\r!.^()lis,  who  was  one  of  tlie  poets  at  the  court  of  Hip- 
parchus,  and  who  ])rol)al)ly  had  tlie  lionor  of  inaugurating  ditliyram- 
bic  contests  at  Athens;    Timocreon   of   Bhodes,  athlete  and   lyric 

1  V,  10-30. 


Melic  Poetry  149 

poet,  known  above  all  for  his  hatred  of  Themistocles ;  Tyunichus  of 
Chalcis,  otherwise  unknown,  but  the  author  of  a  celebrated  paean 
which  Plato  considered  as  "  perhaps  the  prettiest  of  all  songs  " ;  Lam- 
procles,  an  Athenian  author  of  dithyrambs,  Avho  was  praised  by  Aris- 
tophanes for  the  high  character  of  his  hymn  to  Pallas ;  and  finally 
a  little  group  of  poetesses,  of  whom  the  most  celebrated  was  Corinna. 
Born  at  Thebes  or  at  Tanagra,  she  was  supposed  to  have  taught 
Pindar  lyric  poetry,  and  particularly  the  *'  laws  of  the  myths,''  as 
one  biographer  says.  This  was  doubtless  the  art  of  employing  them 
properly  in  triumphal  odes,  and  of  "  sowing  them  in  handfuls,  not 
from  the  overflowing  sack,"  as  the  proverb  runs.  Other  accounts 
show  her  as  contending  for  the  prize  against  Pindar  himself,  and 
winning  it  from  him.  Pausanias,  thereupon,  malignly  supposes  that 
her  success  was  due  especially  to  her  beauty. 

During  the  time  in  which  lyric  poetry  came  to  perfection,  philos- 
ophy and  history  were  already  beginning  their  researches  for  truth, 
and  creating  a  literature  in  prose. 


CHAPTER   IX 
BEGINNINGS  OF  PHILOSOPHY  AND  HISTORY :    PROSE 

1.  Prose  and  the  Advent  of  the  Scientific  Spirit.  2.  Signs  Antecedent  to  the 
Advent  of  the  New  Spirit.  3.  Hesitation  between  Prose  and  Poetry.  4.  The 
Philosophic  Doctrines.  6.  The  Art  of  Writing  among  Philosophic  Prose- 
writers.  6.  The  Art  of  Writing  among  Philosophic  Poets.  7.  The  Logog- 
raphers  :  General  View.    8.  Principal  Writers  of  the  Group. ^ 

1.  Prose  and  the  Advent  of  the  Scientific  Spirit.  —  For  many  centu- 
ries, Greece  had  no  literature  but  poetry.  The  first  works  in  prose 
did  not  appear  till  the  sixth  century.  Men  have  tried  to  explain 
this  late  appearance  of  prose  by  the  ignorance  of  writing  or  the  lack 
of  papyrus.  But  these  are  not  the  real  reasons.  In  the  first  place, 
writing  was  known  in  Greece  very  long  before  this :  the  poems  of 
Archilochus  could  not  be  preserved  except  in  writing.  In  the  mid- 
dle of  the  sixth  century,  some  Greek  adventurers  in  the  service  of 
Psammetichus  I,  king  of  Egypt,  inscribed  their  names  and  a  few 
phrases  on  the  limbs  of  two  colossal  statues  in  Nubia  ;  writing,  ac- 
cordingly, was  then  in  common  use.  Furthermore,  the  very  study 
of  the  Greek  alphabet  proves  that  the  introduction  of  writing  goes 
back,  if  not  to  the  fabulous  Cadmus,  at  least  to  a  period  quite  ancient 
in  the  relations  between  Phoenicia  and  Greece.  As  for  papyrus,  be- 
fore its  importation  into  Greece  in  the  reign  of  Amasis,  men  could 
dispense  with  it  easily  by  having  recourse  to  prepared  skins  (8t<^^£- 
pat).  These  were  a  sort  of  parchment,  whose  use  is  attested  notably 
by  Herodotus.^ 

And  if  no  works  were  written  in  prose,  it  must  be  that  no  need  was 
felt  for  them.  Long  before  this,  the  temples  had  kept  lists  (avaypa- 
<f>aL)  of  priests  and  priestesses,  and  of  victors  in  the  games,  notes 
relative  to  miracles  or  epidemics,  offerings  adorned  with  inscriptions, 

^  BiHLiooRAPHY  :  The  fragments  of  the  early  philosophers  have  been  pub- 
lished in  the  Didot  collection  by  Mullacli,  Fragmentn  Philosophortim  Grcecorum, 
I.  Particular  editions  are  :  Ileraclitus,  by  By  water,  Oxford.  1878  ;  and  Parmen- 
ides,  by  Diels,  Berlin,  1807.  The  fratnnonts  of  the  logographers  will  be  found 
in  the  Frarjmnitn  JfistnriconiTn  Grcemrxun  by  G.  Miiller  (Didot  Collection), 
particularly  vols.  I  and  II,  and  the  addenda  of  vol.  IV. 

Con.sult  P.  Tannery,  Ponr  V Ilii^toire.  de  la  science  hellhie,  Paris,  1887, 
where  all  the  fratrments  of  the  philosophers  from  Thales  to  Empedocles  are 
translated  into  French. 

2  Herodotus,  V,  58. 

160 


Beginnings  of  Philosophy  and  History:  Prose     151 

and  collections  of  oracles.  In  the  town  halls  of  the  cities,  there  were 
lists  of  kings  and  magistrates  and  of  treaties,  laws,  and  public  acts. 
But  none  of  this  is  literature.  Historical  literature  begins  only  when 
the  depot  of  archives  calls  into  existence  the  book  of  history.  Like- 
wise there  is  no  philosophical  literature  until  some  man,  not  content 
with  noting  observations  of  immediate  utility,  goes  beyond  these  to 
a  synthesis  of  more  general  character.  The  appearance  of  this  new 
creation,  the  book  of  history  or  philosophy,  presupposes  a  purely 
intellectual  interest.  The  truth  (or  whatever  is  considered  as  such) 
excites  interest  from  being  so  considered,  whatever  the  part  of  beauty 
or  emotion  otherwise  connected  Avith  it.  Poetry  had  been  the  natu- 
ral language  of  sensibility  and  imagination.  Prose  begins  with  the 
first  germs  of  a  scientific  spirit. 

2.  Signs  Antecedent  to  the  Advent  of  the  New  Spirit. — The  new 
scientific  spirit  was  strongly  manifested  toward  the  middle  of  the 
sixth  century  in  works  of  philosophy  and  history.  But  it  appeared, 
also,  in  other  branches  of  thought  and  even  in  poetry.  We  have 
long  seen  it  in  process  of  formation  and  growth ;  and  it  is  proper  to 
recall  briefly  these  manifestations. 

After  the  highly  dramatic,  passionate  poetry  of  Homer,  we  have 
first  the  cyclic  and  genealogical  poetry,  which  shows  a  wish  for 
sequence  and  chronology ;  then  poetry  like  the  Tlieogony,  already 
philosophic  in  its  desire  to  reduce  Greek  theology  to  a  system ;  and 
finally,  lyric  poetry  and  the  elegy,  in  which  moral  philosophy  holds 
a  considerable  place. 

In  the  sixth  century  Greek  religion  underwent  a  rather  impor- 
tant change,  owing  to  a  considerable  development  of  the  mysteries. 
Whatever  their  origin,  it  was  then  that  they  attained  full  splendor. 
For  they  responded  to  a  new  need  of  men's  spirits,  —  a  need  created 
by  the  progress  of  reflection.  The  former  divine  justice  did  not 
suffice ;  it  must  be  corrected.  Into  it,  therefore,  was  introduced  more 
of  reason,  gentleness,  and  efficacy.  The  means  of  purification  offered 
would  appease  the  anger  of  the  gods,  and  the  "  initiation  "  assured 
to  those  who  received  it  a  happy  destiny  after  death.  Hence  there 
appeared  a  whole  series  of  literary  productions  —  chants  of  purifica- 
tion (KaOapfjLoi),  sacred  legends  (lepol  Xoyot),  Orphic  verses,  mystic 
poems,  religious  epics  —  which  were  produced  in  great  abundance 
under  the  names  of  Orpheus,  Musseus,  Linus,  Epimenides,  and  Aris- 
taus  of  Proconnesus.  We  need  not  study  to-day  all  these  little- 
known  works.  They  belong  rather  to  erudition  than  to  the  history 
of  literature  ;  yet  the  mention  of  them  must  not  be  omitted. 

About  the  same  time,  probably  at  Delphi,  was  formed  the  legend 
of  the  Seven  Sages :  Thales,  Pittacus,  Bias,  Solon,  and  others  whose 


152  Greek  Literature 

names,  as  we  have  them,  vary.  From  the  beginning  of  the  fifth 
century,  these  personages,  so  different  from  one  another,  were  repre- 
sented as  a  sort  of  fraternity  meeting  from  time  to  time  at  Delphi  or 
elsewhere,  to  exchange  moral  observations.  To  them  was  attributed 
a  multitude  of  proverbs,  maxims,  and  moral  precepts,  like  the  cele- 
brated Yvoidi.  o-eavTo'v,  or  the  no  less  celebrated  Mt^Scv  ayav.  The 
legend,  if  taken  literally,  is  evidently  false;  yet  it  contains  this 
germ  of  truth :  the  beginning  of  the  sixth  century,  to  which  it 
assigns  the  period  of  the  Seven  Sages,  is  distinguished  from  the 
preceding  ages  by  a  keener  interest  in  the  real  world,  and  a  disposi- 
tion to  observe  and  reflect,  which  was  to  become  scientific  and  give 
rise  to  prose. 

The  legend  of  ^sop  may  well  be  connected  with  the  preceding. 
He  was  the  reputed  author  of  short,  familiar  tales,  allegorical  and 
moral  in  character,  in  which  animals  played  the  leading  parts.  They 
are  called  fables  to-day.  He  was  said  to  have  been  a  Phrygian  slave, 
and  the  period  of  his  life  was  referred  to  the  time  of  Croesus.  Herod- 
otus mentions  him  as  already  a  well-known  personage.^  A  prose  ver- 
sion of  his  fables  was,  no  doubt,  then  current  at  Athens.  Whatever 
the  origin  of  the  fables,  the  only  point  to  be  noted  here  is  that  Greek 
tradition,  while  making  the  legendary  /Esop  contemporary  with 
Croesus,  expressed  in  its  own  way  the  relation  it  had  observed 
between  these  familiar  moral  allegories  and  the  age  when  prose  first 
began  to  appear. 

3.  Hesitation  between  Prose  and  Poetry.  —  Although  prose  was  the 
method  of  expression  most  in  harmony  with  the  new  form  of  Greek 
thinking,  and  though  this  harmony  had  been  felt  from  the  begin- 
ning, there  was  at  first  some  hesitation  to  use  it.  Important  philo- 
sophic works  were  written  in  verse  ;  and  even  in  history,  this  confusion 
of  the  two  types  is  not  without  examples.  JMoreover,  as  the  first 
prose-writers  had  to  create  everything,  there  was  uncertainty  about 
the  formation  of  the  new  style.  In  general,  these  old  writers  wished 
to  write  as  they  spoke,  with  great  simplicity,  more  regardful  of  truth 
than  of  literary  beauty.  But  involuntarily  poetic  reminiscences 
would  force  themselves  into  their  language.  Perfect  simplicity  is 
not  the  quality  of  an  amateur.  Besides,  some  few  had  a  confused 
idea  that  prose  also  is  capable  of  beauty.  Not  knowing,  however, 
where  to  look  for  the  elements  of  that  beauty,  they  sought  them  in 
imitation  of  poetic  language.  Had  they  wished  to  do  otherwise, 
they  would  not  have  Ijeen  able ;  for  what  constitutes  the  beauty  of 
elegant  prose  is  the  very  perfection  of  those  qualities  of  logic  and 
analysis  which  give  rise  to  prose  at  all.     At  that  time  analysis  and 

I  Herodotus,  II.  134. 


Beginnings  of  Philosophy  and  History :   Prose     153 

logic  were  rudimentary  even  in  the  greatest  minds.  Ideas  were 
placed  side  by  side  without  connection,  and  each  was  expressed  in 
a  summary  manner.  The  sentences  were  short,  and  the  movement 
of  the  style  somewhat  childish.  The  first  five  hundred  years  of 
Greek  prose  is  a  period  of  beginnings,  or  rather  of  gropings. 

One  of  the  most  ancient  monuments  of  Greek  prose  was  a  work 
by  Pherecydes  of  Syros,  with  a  bizarre,  obscure  title,  'ETrra/tiuxos 
(something  like  Tlie  Cave  loith  the  Seven  Recesses)}  It  was  a  sort 
of  mystic  theogony.  There  are  extant  a  number  of  phrases,  sev- 
eral of  which  have  been  discovered  recently.  They  show  very 
clearly  the  characteristics  we  have  just  been  discussing.  The  work 
began  thus  :  Z^s  fxkv  koL  X.povo';  eaav  kol  XOovltj.  \$ovLrj  he  ovvofui  iyivero 
Trj,  intiBi]  Z^s  ye/xts  StSot."  The  stj'le,  accordingly,  recalls  Hesiod 
rather  than  Plato. 

We  come  now  to  philosophers  and  historians  proper,  who  were 
the  real  founders  of  prose. 

4.  The  Philosophic  Doctrines.  —  We  need  not  study  here  the  history 
of  old  Greek  philosophy.  A  few  words  on  the  subject  will  suffice 
for  the  understanding  of  the  literary  events  that  correspond  to  this 
movement  of  ideas. 

Greek  philosophy  was  born  on  that  day  when  some  thinker  tried 
to  find  a  rational,  systematic  explanation  of  the  universe.  The  honor 
of  this  initiative  was  attributed  by  the  Greeks  to  Thales  of  Miletus,  who 
lived  in  the  beginning  of  the  sixth  century.  Initiated,  it  is  said,  into 
the  astronomical  lore  of  the  Chaldaeans,  he  did  not  stop  with  predict- 
ing eclipses  or  explaining  meteorologic  phenomena.  He  had  the 
majestic  conception  that  all  existing  things  had  a  common  origin, 
and  that  water  was  the  primordial  matter  of  the  universe.  And  after 
him.  other  lonians,  such  as  Anaximander  and  Anaximenes,  though 
holding  to  the  idea  of  a  primitive  substance,  conceived  it  differently. 
For  Anaximander,  it  was  the  '-unlimited"  (aveipov),  from  which  things 
separated  themselves  and  were  distinguished.  First  came  water,  and 
that  engendered  the  earliest  living  beings.  For  Anaximenes,  it  was 
air,  that,  by  rarefaction,  produced  fire,  and  by  condensation,  water 
and  land.  Anaximander  was,  like  Thales,  a  sage.  To  him  was 
attributed  the  construction  of  a  gnomon  for  astronomical  observa- 
tions, and  that  of  tlie  first  map  made  in  Greece.''     Heraclitus,  the 

1  [This  name  is  triven  also  in  the  form  llevT^/xvxoi,  —  Cave,  with  the  Five  He- 
cr'sses.  Cf.  the  articles  by  II.  Diels  in  Sitzunasihcricht  d.  Bcrl.  Akad.  d.  Wii^sen- 
srhaftcn  for  1807.  pp.  144-150  ;  and  by  L.  Preller  in  lih.  M.  for  184(5,  pp.  ;J77  ff. 
Tlie  title  '¥jirTdu.vxos  doubtless  comes  from  Suiilas.  s.v.  <^fpeK(;57;s  B(i/3uos  Zi^pios ; 
but,  as  I'reller  shows,  the  -work  was  probably  named  from  the  five  elemental 
principles. — ether,  fire,  air,  water,  and  earth.  —  Tr.  ] 

'^  '•  There  existed  Zeus  and  (.'hronos  and  Chthonia.  But  Chthonia  came  to  be 
called  Ge  when  Zeus  bestowed  honor  upon  her."  ^  Strabo,  I,  11. 


154  Greek  Literature 

latest  of  the  lonians  in  date,  conceived  of  fire  as  the  beginning  of 
things,  the  principle  of  movement  and  life,  which  incessantly  trans- 
forms the  appearance  of  all  things.  *'  Everything  flows  "  (Travra  pet), 
said  he,  and  the  origin  of  being  is  an  infinite  mobility.  The  theory 
of  Heraclitus  was  both  the  final  result  of  Ionic  natural  philosophy, 
and  a  reply  to  the  Eleatic  doctrines. 

While  the  lonians  were  constructing  their  systems,  other  thinkers, 
incited  probably  by  the  example  of  Thales,  devoted  themselves  to 
similar  researches,  only  along  quite  other  lines. 

|>  The  first  of  these  was  Pythagoras,  who  about  the  middle  of  the 
sixth  century  was  the  founder  of  a  system  of  morals,  the  originator  of 
a  type  of  ascetic  life,  and  as  well  the  creator  of  a  system  of  meta- 
physic.  As  a  great  mathematician  and  a  reformer  of  musical  theory, 
he  found  the  principle  of  everything  in  harmony  and  in  number,  with- 
out which  formless,  inert  matter  could  not  rise  to  the  scale  of  being. 
Then  Xenophanes  of  Colophon,  first  poet  and  then  philosopher, 
succeeded  Pythagoras ;  for  he  names  him  in  his  verses  as  a  person- 
age already  celebrated.  In  the  second  half  of  the  sixth  century  he 
proclaimed  that  the  sensible  Avorld  is  a  mere  vain  appearance,  that 
the  invisible  essence  of  things  is  found  in  Unity  ;  and  that  the  only 
true  existence  is  Being,  one  and  unchangeable.  After  him,  Par- 
menides  of  Elea,  his  disciple,  took  up  his  thesis,  and  defended  it 
with  indefatigable  logic. 

Then  there  appeared,  on  the  one  hand,  conciliators  like  Empedo- 
cles;  and  on  the  other,  men  who  tried  to  advance  farther  along 
the  lines  already  laid  down.  Empedocles,  born  at  Agrigentum  in 
the  first  quarter  of  the  fifth  century,  tried  to  combine  the  doctrines 
of  his  predecessors.  He  composed  the  total  Unity  by  the  aid  of 
the  four  elements  of  the  lonians,  through  a  series  of  actions  and 
reactions,  Love  and  Hate.  This  theory  cannot  fail  to  recall  Hera- 
clitus's  favorite  theory  of  motion.  About  the  same  time,  Leucippus 
founded  the  atomic  doctrine,  which  was  destined  to  so  long  a  life. 
Finally  Anaxagoras,  who  was  born  at  Clazomenae  in  the  beginning 
of  the  fifth  century,  but  whose  ])hiloso])]iic  activity  seems  to  have 
been  later  than  that  of  Eui])odocles  and  Leucippus,  attributed  the 
origin  of  tilings  to  uncreated  elements,  infinite  in  number  and 
smallness,  confused  at  first  in  a  sort  of  chaos,  but  later  distin- 
guished and  organized  by  a  ju'inciple  of  life  which  he  called  Mind 
(NoSs).  It  is  the  first  appearance  of  Intelligence  as  an  active 
element  in  a  i)hiloso])hic  system,  as  a  source  of  organization  and 
life.  Diogenes  of  Apollonia,  who,  after  Anaxagoras,  developed  the 
ideas  of  Anaximenes,  seemed  no  doubt  a  little  tardy;  for  his  repu- 
tation was  never  as  great  as  that  of  his  illustrious  contemporaries. 


Beginnings  of  Philosophy  and  History :   Prose     155 

After  all  these  experiments,  which  were  productive  rather  of 
pretty  hypotheses  thau  of  rigorous  demonstrations,  came  a  period 
of  scepticism.  To  tear  down  these  imposing,  fragile  constructions 
was  the  work  of  the  sophists.  We  shall  return  later  to  these 
thinkers  ;  for  their  entrance  on  the  scene  opens  a  new  period  in  the 
history  of  Greek  thought. 

5.  The  Art  of  Writing  among  Philosophic  Prose-writers.  —  Neither 
Thales,  Pythagoras,  nor  Leucippus  wrote  anything.  If  their  doc- 
trines left  any  permanent  traces,  it  is  because  they  were  collected 
by  disciples  who  transmitted  them  to  posterity.  As  for  the  phi- 
losophers who  left  written  works  behind,  those  who  wrote  in  prose 
have  been  most  neglected,  so  that  it  is  difficult  to  judge  of  their 
talent  by  a  knowledge  of  the  facts.  The  usual  title  of  their  works 
seems  to  have  been :  Vitpl  <jivcno<;,  On  Nature,  or  more  exactly.  On  the 
Origin  of  Things.  We  have  now  only  the  debris  of  these  works  and 
most  of  the  fragments  are  of  tantalizing  brevity. 

In  certain  phrases  of  Anaximander,  however,  one  can  feel  a 
sort  of  religious  and  poetic  grandeur.  Of  Anaximenes,  there 
remains  absolutely  nothing.  Diogenes  Laertius,  indeed,  praises  the 
simplicity  of  his  pure  Ionic  style ;  but  we  are  obliged  to  accept  the 
opinion  of  Diogenes  in  the  matter. 

Heraclitus  is  better  known,  owing  both  to  the  number  of  his 
fragments  and  to  his  strong  originality,  which  is  manifest  even  in 
the  simplest  words.  He  was  called  "  the  Obscure "  (6  o-kotcii/os)  ; 
and  the  ancients  particularly  criticised  the  defects  of  his  style. 
But  their  judgment  Avas  formed  in  comparison  with  the  ideal  of 
elegance  and  clearness  created  by  the  rhetoric  of  a  later  time.  We 
rather  admire  his  qualities  ;  for,  though  not  conforming  to  rhetorical 
rules,  they  are  of  a  superior  order.  His  obscurity  is  not  so  great 
as  has  sometimes  been  thought,  and  does  not  come  so  much  from 
the  words  themselves,  or  from  faulty  phraseology,  as  from  the 
extraordinary  novelty  of  his  ideas,  from  the  unexpected,  qui(;k  sur- 
prises by  which  he  brusquely  connected  contrary  ideas  in  the  effort  to 
unite  them  by  a  never  ending  evolution  into  a  solid  whole.  He 
neither  analyzes  his  ideas  nor  takes  care  to  make  them  acceptable  by 
showing  their  interrelations.  On  the  contrary,  he  takes  pleasure  in 
forcing  thein  violently  together,  with  a  vivid  imagination  and  a 
sort  of  passion  that  animates  all  his  work.  Therefore  his  phrases 
seem  strange  at  first,  but  sink  deep,  penetrate,  and  take  fast  hold. 
*'  The  only  wisdom  is  to  know  the  Thouglit  that,  through  all  things, 
governs  all :  this  wishes  and  does  not  wish  to  be  named  Zeus."  '  In 
other  words,  the  name  is  of  little  significance,  if  only  one  does  not 
1  Fr.s.  12  and  55,  MuUach.     These  go  together. 


156  Greek  Literature 

conceive  it  as  does  the  common  multitude.  Or  again,  "The  gods 
are  mortal  and  men  immortal :  the  death  of  the  former  is  the  life 
of  the  latter." '  In  other  words,  man  is  of  the  same  substance  as 
y  I  God ;  but  in  man,  this  substance  is  in  a  state  less  subtile,  less 
aflame :  a  man  is,  so  to  speak,  a  god  dying.  Similarly,  "  The 
driest  soul  is  the  wisest  one."  ^  Heraclitus,  however,  is  not  always 
obscure :  he  has  maxims  whose  style  is  clear  and  energetic :  — 

"  To  offer  prayers  to  statues  is  to  speak  to  dwelling-houses  with- 
out knowing  what  gods  and  heroes  really  are."  ^ 

"  The  wisest  man  is  but  a  jackanapes  beside  the  gods."  * 

"What  he  lacks  is  the  gift  of  art,  the  power  to  invest  aright  his 
wealth  and  obtain  its  full  value.  But  he  possesses  the  essential 
riches,  and  these  nothing  can  replace. 

Of  Anaxagoras  (beginning  of  the  fifth  century)  we  have  seventeen 
fragments,  one  almost  a  page  in  length.  Diogenes  Laertius  says  of 
one  of  them  that  it  contains  charm  and  grandeur.  Its  charm  comes 
principally  from  the  use  of  the  Ionic  dialect;  while  its  grandeur 
lies  in  the  thought  itself.  The  writer's  personality  seems  as  fully 
absent  from  his  works  as  from  a  treatise  on  geometry.  There  is 
neither  passion  nor  imagination,  if  one  considers  the  details  of  its 
language.  Ke  never  discusses,  but  simply,  like  an  oracle,  announces 
truths  as  certainties.  So  his  contemporaries  jestingly  called  him 
Intelligence.^  The  epigram  is  just,  and  indicates  well  the  lofty, 
clear,  formal  character  of  his  style. 

Diogenes  of  Apollonia,  though  inferior  in  thought,  has  more 
technical  power  than  his  predecessors,  more  of  that  supi'jle  dialec- 
tic which  can  express  ideas  cleverly  and  is  an  essential  element  of 
prose.  Though  a  Dorian  by  birth,  he  employed  Ionic,  as  this  was 
the  dialect  of  philosophic  prose;  and  he  used  it  with  really  grace- 
ful simplicity.  What  is  more,  he  had  caught  its  spirit;  for  the 
first  lines  of  his  work  call  the  attention  of  the  reader  to  the  novel 
character  of  his  style.  "  Methinks  that  in  the  beginning  of  every  1 
I  discourse  it  is  well  to  state  a  definite  principle,  in  simple,  serious 
I    language." 

6.  The  Art  of  Writing  among  Philosophic  Poets.  —  Whereas  prose 
was  still  in  almost  a  stage  of  prattling,  poetry  had  had  a  long  and 
glorious  career.  It  could  say  everything,  and  that  with  elegance 
and  power.  Ifence  the  philosophers  who  wrote  in  verse  were  much 
more  adept  in  the  expression  of  philosophic  ideas  than  their  rivals, 
the  jirose-writers ;  and  certain  of  the  qualities  properly  belonging  to 

1  Fr.  02.  2  Fr.  72.  ^  Vv.  61.  *  Fr.  43. 

*  Plutarch,  Periclef,  4. 


Beginnings  of  Philosophy  and  History:   Prose     157 

good  prose,  to  say  nothing  of  those  properly  belonging  to  poetry, 
are  found  well  exemplified  in  their  poems.  Xenophanes,  before 
becoming  a  philosopher,  apparently  was  a  poet.  He  was  born  at 
Colophon  in  the  very  beginning  of  the  sixth  century ;  and  it  is  only 
in  the  latter  part  of  his  life,  it  seems,  that  he  published  his  philo- 
sophical poem.  He  is  said  to  have  been  attracted  to  these  new  studies 
owing  to  the  renown  of  those  who  had  just  inaugurated  them.  His 
long  life  of  nearly  a  century  was  largely  spent  elsewhere  than  at 
Colophon.  He  left  his  native  state  early,  travelled  over  Occidental 
Greece,  and  after  the  foundation  of  Elea  by  the  Phocians  (about 
544)  doubtless  fixed  his  residence  there ;  for  in  that  place  his  doc- 
trine led  to  the  foundation  of  a  school :  and  besides,  he  told  of  the 
founding  of  the  city  in  an  epic  poem. 

He  composed  elegies  also.  There  are  extant  some  fine  frag- 
ments, in  which  wisdom  is  combined  with  passion.  Their  form  is 
elegant.     He  says  of  the  nobles  of  Colophon:  — 

"They  go  to  the  agora  all  dressed  in  purple,  numbering  more 
than  a  thousand  men.  They  are  full  of  pride  —  pride  in  their  splen- 
did heads  of  hair ;  and  are  steeped  in  fine  perfumes."^ 

The  athletes,  so  loved  and  admired  in  Greece  at  this  time,  did 
not  inspire  more  sympathy  in  him  than  did  the  fastidious  nobles. 
He  despised  their  art,  and  said  proudly  :  — 

"  Better  than  the  strength  of  men  and  the  swiftness  of  horses  is 
our  wisdom."  ^ 

In  these  last  Avords  it  is  a  philosopher  that  is  speaking.  In 
another  passage,  it  is  merely  an  amiable  moralist,  who  reminds  one 
of  Solon  :  — 

"  See  how  the  floor  of  the  room  has  been  cleaned.  The  hand.s  of 
all  the  guests  are  white,  and  the  bowls  shine.  A  man  adonis  the 
guests  with  crowns,  and  another  offers  them  in  a  cuj)  a  pleasing 
perfume.  The  mixing  bowl,  source  of  joy,  is  being  adorned.  Tlie 
wine  is  ready  in  earthen  vessels,  abundant,  sweet,  and  perfumed. 
Incense  fills  the  air  with  its  sweet  odors.  The  water  is  fresh,  sweet, 
and  pure.  White  bread  is  served.  The  table  is  loaded  with  cheese 
and  lioney.  The  central  altar  is  covered  with  flowers.  The  wliole 
dwelling  resounds  with  songs  and  gayety.  First,  wise  men  will  sing 
of  the  divinity  with  pious  and  pure  words,  ])ouring  libations  and 
asking  that  they  may  act  justly.  This,  my  friends,  is  better  than 
revelling.  We  must  so  drink  that,  if  age  have  not  enfeebled  us,  we 
may  regain  OTir  dwelling  without  a  slave's  assistance."  ^ 

The  philosophic  fragments  are  in  hexameter,  and  seem  to  have 
belonged  to  a  single  poem,  possibly  entitled,  like  the  Ionic  writings, 

1  Fr.  20.  2  Yv.  19.  3  Fr.  21. 


158  Greek  Literature 

Htpi  <t>v<n(K.  They  are  not  numerous,  and  comprise  about  thirty- 
verses.  Some  treat  the  illusions  of  men  who  take  sensible  appear- 
ance for  reality.  Others  relate  to  the  qualities  of  the  one,  unchange- 
able Being.  Among  the  errors  of  men,  the  one  which  particularly 
excited  his  indignation  was  the  idea,  absurd,  as  he  says,  that  they 
had  formed  of  the  gods.  The  theology  of  Homer  and  of  the  traditional 
religion,  the  anthropomorphism  of  all  Greece,  inspired  in  him  the 
same  scorn  as  in  the  Polyeucte  of  Corneille :  — 

"  Every  crime  is  ascribed  to  the  gods  by  Homer  and  Hesiod.  All 
that,  among  mortals,  is  worthy  of  blame  and  reprobation,  all  shame- 
ful actions,  are  praised  in  their  chants :  thefts,  adulteries,  and  mutual 
deceptions."  ^ 

"  If  oxen  and  lions  had  hands,  if  they  could  design  as  men  do, 
they  would  make  gods  just  like  themselves :  horses  would  represent 
them  as  horses ;  oxen  as  oxen,  with  a  figure  and  members  similar  to 
their  own."  ^ 

^  Parmenides  of  Elea,  who  flourished  in  the  first  quarter  of  the 
fifth  century,  seems  to  have  written  only  a  single  poem,  perhaps  also 
entitled  Ucpl  <f>v<no<:.  In  a  happy  prelude,  fortunately  preserved,  he 
tells  how  the  docile  coursers  who  conduct  his  thought  where  he 
wishes  had  carried  it  away  in  their  swift  chariot,  guided  by  the 
daughters  of  the  Sun,  even  to  the  portals  of  Day  and  Night ;  these, 
opening  at  the  voice  of  the  Heliades,  had  given  them  access  to  the 
presence  of  Truth.  At  this  point  the  first  part  of  the  poem  begins; 
it  is  dedicated  to  "  truth  "  (to.  Trp6<;  dXi^Oeuiv),  a  rational  knowledge  of 
the  one,  unchangeable,  eternal  Being.  A  second  part  treats  of 
"  opinion,"  the  merely  plausible  theories  constructed  from  the  sen- 
sible appearance  of  things.  This  part,  however,  is  extremely  muti- 
lated. The  first,  though  much  damaged,  presents  a  sufficient  number 
of  consecutive  passages  so  that  one  can  still  observe  the  rare  mixture 
of  dialectic  vigor,  firm  conviction,  and  intellectual  passion,  which 
constituted  his  originality  and  striking  merit. 

"  How  wouldst  thou  have  Being  born  ?  In  what  manner  ?  From 
wliat  origin  ?  Whence  would  come  to  it  its  growth?  From  Xon- 
]>eing  ?  I  forV)id  you  to  say  or  think  this.  One  cannot  say  or  think 
that  Jieing  does  not  exist.  And  what  necessity  has  caused  it  to  be  ? 
Why  earlier,  or  later?  There  is  in  P)eing  neitlier  birth  nor  begin- 
ning: absolutelj-,  it  is  or  it  is  not,  and  no  force  of  argument  will 
ever  ])rove  that  anything  is  produced  from  it  which  is  not  itself. 
Tliat  it  ('()uld  be  born  or  die,  is  sometliing  which  Justice  will  not 
suffer.     She  will  not  loosen  the  cords  by  which  she  keeps  it  bound." 

Such  language  was  then  a  rare  novelty.  Zeno  and  Melissus,  who 
succeeded  Parmenides  in  the  Eleatic  school,  were  above  all  dispu- 

1  Fr.  7.  2  Yt.  0. 


Beginnings  of  Philosophy  and  History :   Prose     159 

tants,  the  first  masters  of  eristic.  One  may  say  that  Parmenides, 
although  a  true  poet  in  many  ways,  was  quite  worthy  of  having  such 
disciples. 

Empedocles,  like  Xenophanes,  composed  various  works.  Born 
at  Agrigentum  in  Sicily,  in  the  first  quarter  of  the  fifth  century,  he 
belonged  to  a  rich  and  illustrious  family.  He  is  said  to  have  refused 
a  royal  crown.  His  interest  was  universal.  He  knew  all  the  systems 
of  his  predecessors.  He  was  an  engineer,  a  physician,  a  mystic,  and, 
as  it  appears,  something  of  a  charlatan.  His  own  verses  represent 
him  as  surrounded  by  a  bizarre  crowd,  to  whom  he  promised  recovery 
from  all  their  ills,  and  gave  himself  out  to  be  a  god.^  Such  a  person- 
age tended  to  become  legendary;  a  thousand  strange  adventures 
were  attributed  to  him.  His  death  was  reported  in  various  ways. 
The  best-known  tradition  says  that  he  perished  in  the  crater  of 
.^tna,  into  which  he  had  thrown  himself.*  Aristotle  informs  us  that 
Empedocles  was  then  sixty  years  old.^  He  had  written  some  expiatory . 
hymns  (KaOapixoi),  a  poem  on  medicine,  some  less  important  works, 
and  a  poem,  Uepl  ^wews,  probably  in  three  books.  Of  all  his  numer- 
ous verses,  about  four  hundred  and  fifty  have  come  down  to  us. 

The  terminology  of  his  system,  with  the  personifications  which 
he  styled  Love  and  Discord,  and  his  perfectly  round  Sphere  which 
is  the  one  and  multiple,  immobile  and  changing  Being,  is  somewhat 
astonishing,  and  seems  whimsical.  But  it  could  not  alter  the  power 
of  his  spirit,  the  easy  fulness  of  his  exposition,  or  the  brilliance  of 
his  style.  We  give  an  ingenious,  picturesque  fragment,  that  has  not 
too  abstruse  an  appearance :  — 

"  When  the  painters,  well  instructed  in  their  art,  make  a  picture 
as  an  offering  to  some  God,  they  take  in  their  hands  some  variously 
colored  substances,  mix  them  harmoniously,  using  less  of  some  and 
more  of  others ;  and  with  these  they  fashion  images  that  reproduce 
the  forms  of  living  beings.  They  make  trees,  men  and  women, 
wild  beasts,  birds,  fish  living  in  the  bosom  of  the  deep,  and  gods  of 
long  life,  covered  with  honors.  So  let  not  thy  tliought  deceive  thee 
into  believing  that  elsewhere  [than  in  the  four  elements]  tliere  is 
any  other  source  of  mortal  beings,  liowever  numerous  their  species  ; 
but  remcMnber  constantly  this  truth,  which  the  divinity  itself  has 
caused  thee  to  hear."  * 

7.  The  Logographers  :  General  View.  —  The  first  Greek  historians 
are  ordinarily  called  logographers  ''  (,\oyoypa0ot  or  AoyoTrotoi'),  "  authors 
of  prose  narratives,"  in  opposition  to  the  ])oets  (eVoTroiot  or  ixvOottolol). 
Strabo,  who  could  still  read  many  of  their  old  narratives,  further 

1  vv.  .397-413  and  402-470.  Mullach.  <  vv.  1.34-144. 

2  Diogenes  Laertius,  VIII,  (>9  ff.  *  Thucydides,  I.  21,  2. 

3  In  Diogenes  Laertius,  ibid.  52  and  74. 


160  Greek  Literature 

informs  us  that,  between  these  and  those  of  the  poets,  there  was 
little  difference  but  that  of  metre ;  there  was  the  same  want  of 
criticism,  the  same  love  of  legend  in  both.'  The  subjects  treated  by 
the  logographers  were  borrowed  from  the  remotest  past,  the  past 
most  difficult  to  understand ;  namely,  the  foundations  of  cities 
(ktio-£19)  and  genealogies  more  or  less  mythical.  The  strange  events 
mentioned  in  the  old  ai'chives  or  preserved  by  oral  tradition  were 
their  favorite  material.  There  was  no  general  view  of  the  barbarian 
world,  nor  even  of  the  Greek.  They  confined  themselves  to  local 
chronicles.  The  narration  took  its  course  with  simplicity,  without 
philosophy  or  eloquence,  yet  not  without  grace.  The  logographers 
were  mostly  lonians  and  wrote  the  dialect  spoken  in  Ionia,  with  the 
natural  ease  which  has  been  the  privilege  of  their  race. 

Despite  this  general  resemblance,  there  were  certain  differences. 
During  the  sixth  and  fifth  centuries  there  was  some  progress  in 
criticism,  especially  among  those  logographers  who,  not  content 
with  relating  fabulous  tales,  were  at  the  same  time  geographers, 
like  Hecatffius  of  Miletus.  These  latter  travelled ;  they  learned  to 
compare  and  reflect,  and  thereby  added  something  to  the  sum  total 
of  the  world's  knowledge. 

8.  Principal  Writers  of  the  Group.  —  Some  thirty  names  of  logog- 
raphers have  been  preserved,  yet  very  few  are  known  from  frag- 
ments sufficiently  interesting  to  deserve  mention  in  the  history  of 
literature. 

The  oldest  of  whom  there  is  any  mention  is  Cadmus  of  Miletus, 
almost  a  contemporary  of  Pherecydes  of  Syros.  To  him  was  at- 
tributed a  work,  On  the  Fouiulation  of  Miletus,  but  the  ancients 
themselves  give  us  only  vague  information  about  him. 

Acusilaus  of  the  little  city  of  Argos  in  Boeotia  was  somewhat 
younger.  He  is  said  to  have  lived  in  the  second  half  of  the  sixth 
century.  A  work  bearing  his  name  was  entitled  Genealogies.  It 
was  in  several  books.  He  was  a  mythographer,  or  collector  of  local 
legends,  and  furnished  some  legends  to  I'indar.  His  Gene<do(jies 
commenced  with  chaos,  and  continued  tlirough  Ga^a  and  Eros,  as 
in  Hesind;  then  they  passed  to  Phoroneus,  the  first  man,  and  to 
the  ancient  human  races  that  lived  a  tliousand  years  ;  finally  they 
reached  tlie  race  of  heroes.  Sometimes  legends  would  form  short 
romances,  such  as  that  of  The  Alxhiction  of  Orithyia  hy  Boreas.  All 
this  is  evidently  far  from  history^  proper. 

^^'e  must  mention  here  the  Carian  Scylax,  born  at  Caryanda.  He 
is  not  properly  a  logographer,  but  contributed  to  geographical  knowl- 
edge.    An  admiral   in  the  service  of  Darius,  he  was  commissioned 

1  Straho.  I,  p.  18. 


Beginnings  of  Philosophy  and  History :    Prose     161 

by  the  latter  to  explore  the  coasts  of  the  Indian  Ocean.  Aristotle 
still  read  his  Voyage.  Its  observations  were  based  upon  the  physical 
geography  and  manners  of  the  countries  he  visited.^  His  work,  how- 
ever, was  lost  at  an  early  date.  About  the  middle  of  the  fourth 
century  a  new  Voyage,  likewise  passing  under  his  name,  obscured 
the  fame  of  the  authentic  work,  because  that  was  too  antique. 

The  greatest  personage  of  the  period  is  Hecatseus  of  Miletus, 
who  was  both  historian  and  geographer.  He  was  born  about  540, 
and  belonged  to  an  illustrious  family.  The  first  part  of  his  life 
was  occupied  with  extensive  travels  in  Europe,  Asia,  and  Egypt. 
About  500,  when  the  lonians  were  preparing  to  revolt  against  Persia, 
rich  with  experience  as  a  travellei",  having  seen  the  extent  and  power 
of  the  Persian  Empire,  he  counselled  his  fellow-citizens  to  remain  at 
peace.'  He  was  unheeded.  After  the  first  reverses  of  the  rebels, 
he  tried  to  persuade  them  to  seize  the  island  of  Leros,  and  make  it 
the  starting-point  of  their  resistance.^  He  was  no  more  successful 
than  before ;  and  the  disaster  of  Lade  was  the  result  of  their  refusal 
to  take  his  advice.  After  the  final  defeat,  he  obtained  from  the 
satrap,  Artaphernes,  a  modification  of  the  conditions  at  first  imposed 
by  the  conqueror.*  Suidas  declares  that  he  was  still  alive  after  the 
Persian  Wars.  All  his  conduct  had  been  that  of  a  firm,  judicious 
thinker,  exempt  from  illusion  and  unsteadiness.  He  composed  two 
great  works  —  the  Genealogies  and  a  Description  of  the  Earth. 

The  Genealogies,  beginning  with  Deucalion,  related  the  history  of 
the  great  mythic  families  to  which  the  Greeks  assigned  the  events 
of  the  remotest  past.  In  them  figure  Hellen  and  his  sons,  Heracles 
aud  the  Heraclidte,  then  foreign  heroes,  ^Egyptus,  Cadmus,  Dauaus, 
etc.  ^ye  are,  accordingly,  dealing  with  fable  ;  the  author  was  follow- 
ing the  example  of  his  predecessors.  Yet  he  had  the  idea  that  some 
criticism  was  necessary.  His  work  commenced  Avith  these  words: 
"  HecatiBus  of  Miletus  speaks  as  follows:  'I  write  these  things  as 
they  seem  true  to  me ;  for  the  accounts  of  the  Greeks  are  many,  and 
as  I  think,  ridiculous.'"  In  what,  then,  did  his  criticism  consist? 
First  of  all,  apparently,  in  a  superficial  rationalism  that  he  brought 
to  the  interpretation  of  the  myths ;  then,  in  the  natural  good  sense 
which  made  him  choose,  among  several  conflicting  traditions,  the 
most  plausible,  the  one  best  harmonizing  with  known  facts. 

His  Description  of  the  Earth,  due  to  his  own  researches,  indepen- 
dent of  all  imitation,  was  evidently  of  much  greater  scientific  interest. 
It  comprised  two  books,  entitled  Europe  and  Asia.  The  work  was 
perhaps  accompanied  by  a  map,  the  second  to  be  made  in  Greece  (the 

1  Aristotle,  Politics.  VII,  c.  14.  3  //„•(/.  y,  125. 

-  Herodotus,  II,  14:).  *  Di.nlorus.  X.  25,  2. 

M 


1G2  Greek  Literature 

first  being  that  of  Anaximander^).  Certain  Alexandrian  critics 
doubted  the  authenticity  of  part  of  the  work  that  had  come  down  to 
them  under  his  name  ;  but  a  minute  examination  of  the  passages  bor- 
rowed from  him  by  Herodotus  shows  that  these  doubts  were  not  well 
founded.  The  scientific  importance  of  this  Description  of  the  Earth 
was  considerable.  Although,  of  the  three  hundred  fragments,  or 
thereabout,  still  remaining,  several  often  refer  to  a  single  proper 
name,  we  can  still  discern  the  extent  of  the  author's  knowledge  and 
his  influence  over  his  successors.  Not  only  was  he  the  father  of 
Greek  geography,  but  he  stood  for  something  also  in  the  creation  of 
history,  as  Herodotus  understood  the  term.  The  latter,  possibly, 
without  his  example,  would  not  have  made  all  the  journeys  from 
which  are  reported  so  many  facts,  stories,  and  fables,  that  are  docu- 
ments in  turn. 

As  a  writer,  Hecatteus  is  praised  by  Hermogenes  for  his  purity 
of  language,  his  clearness,  and  sometimes  for  his  grace.  The  author 
of  the  Treatise  on  the  Sublime  gives  us  another  interesting  detail :  it 
is  that  Hecatseus  (probably  in  his  Genealogies)  took  delight  in  mak- 
ing his  characters  speak  in  direct  language ;  and  he  cites  a  few  lines 
of  a  discourse  of  Ceyx  to  the  Heraclidae.  As  one  would  expect,  it  is 
not  oratory,  but  is  much  more  like  the  speeches  of  epic  poetry.  It 
is  interesting,  however,  to  see  chronicles  becoming  animated  and 
speech  appearing  in  historic  narrative,  where  it  was  later  to  have  so 
great  a  place.  After  Hecataeus,  it  will  be  sufticient  to  mention 
hastily  three  other  logographers,  who  seem  to  have  lived  somewhat 
before  Herodotus  :  Pherecydes  of  Leros,  author  of  Genealogies  in  the 
manner  of  Hecatseus;  Charon  of  Lampsacus,  who  composed  various 
writings,  including  the  Annals  of  Lampsacus  ('fipoi  Aafxij/aKrjvwv) ,  of 
which  we  have  a  few  interesting  fragments;  and  Xanthus  of  Lydia, 
whose  Lydian  Tales  (AvSulkol),  if  we  may  believe  Ephorus,  were  of 
much  use  to  Herodotus.  The  notices  of  the  ancients  and  the  frag- 
ments show  that  all  these  writers  had  nearly  the  same  method  and 
the  same  excellences  and  defects  :  a  simple,  easy  style,  grace  in  nar- 
ration, and  often  the  air  of  popular  story  or  of  brief  romance.  They 
abounded  in  information,  and  used  but  little  criticism,  though  they 
showed  some  progress  in  reflection. 

"We  come  now  to  the  epoch  of  Herodotus,  when  there  appeared 
two  more  logographers  worthy  of  mention.  The  first  was  Hellanicus 
of  Mitylcne,  cited  by  Thucydides  for  his  Attic  Ilistoi-y  (Attlkt] 
ivyyfM<^y]}r  It  was  his  most  important  work.  He  began  the  history 
of  Athens,  no  doubt,  with  the  city's  origins,  and  brought  it  down  to 
contemporary  events.  He  made  mention  of  the  battle  of  Arginusa' 
1  Strabo,  I,  11.  2  Thucydides,  I,  !»7. 


Beginnings  of  Philosophy  and  History :  Prose     163 

(406).  Thucydides  mentions  him  in  connection  with  the  part  of  his 
work  which  deals  with  the  interval  between  the  Persian  and  the 
Peloponnesian  wars,  reproaching  him  with  a  lack  of  chronological 
precision.  Whatever  foundation  there  may  be  for  the  reproach,  he 
made  an  interesting  innovation  in  extending  the  domain  of  history 
into  contemporary  events.  He  was  reputed  author  of  a  considerable 
number  of  special  treatises  on  subjects  taken  from  mythology,  local 
history,  and  geography;  and  of  lists  of  priestesses,  victors  in  the 
games,  etc.  We  know  nothing  of  his  style.  Nor  is  Antiochus  of  Syra- 
cuse any  better  known.  He  composed  a  work.  On  Italy,  and  another, 
Oil  Sicily  (^iKe\iu}TL<;  <Tvyypa<^rj).  In  the  first,  he  related  the  foundation 
of  the  principal  Italian  cities,  and  notably  that  of  Rome.  It  was 
perhaps  the  first  time  that  Rome  figured  in  the  work  of  a  Greek  his- 
torian. His  work.  On  Sicily,  began  with  its  origins  and  came  down  to 
the  year  424.  We  have  almost  nothing  of  these  works  ;  what  prin- 
cipally commends  him  to  our  notice  is  that  he  had  the  honor  of 
serving  Thucydides  as  the  principal  source  for  the  first  chapters  of 
his  sixth  book,  relating  to  the  different  peoples  of  Sicily.  This  is 
the  best  eulogy  that  one  can  pronounce  on  his  merit  as  a  historian. 
The  names  of  Thucydides  and  Herodotus,  which  we  have  heard 
several  times  in  connection  with  these  last-mentioned  logographers, 
shows  that  we  are  coming  to  the  age  of  the  first  masterpieces  of 
history.  But  before  beginuing  a  study  of  them,  we  must  go  back  a 
little,  to  follow  the  development  of  the  drama,  the  greatest  literary 
creation  of  the  fifth  century. 


CHAPTER   X 

ORIGIN   AND  FORMATION  OF  TRAGEDY  i 

1.  The  Cult  of  Dionysus  in  the  Seventh  and  Sixth  Centuries.  Its  Two  Essen- 
tial Characteristics :  (a)  Strong  Sentiment ;  Lamentation  and  Rejoicing  ; 
(6)  Mimic  Character  of  the  Dionysiac  Festival.     The  Cult  of  the  Heroes. 

2.  The  Dithyramb  and  "Tragic"  Songs  in  the  North  of  the  Peloponnesus. 

3.  Thespis.  Creation  of  Primitive  Tragedy.  Institution  of  Tragic  Contests 
at  Athens.  4.  Successors  of  Thespis:  Chcerilus  and  Phrynichus.  5.  The 
Satyr-Drama :  Pratinas.  6.  Nature  of  Tragic  Contests  in  the  Fifth  Cen- 
tury. 7.  Structure  of  Tragedy :  Its  Parts.  8.  Progress  of  the  Action. 
The  Tragic  Unities.     9.  The  Personages  and  the  Chorus. 

1.  The  Cult  of  Dionysus  in  the  Seventh  and  Sixth  Centuries.  Its 
Two  Essential  Characteristics  :  (a)  Strong  Sentiment ;  Lamentation  and 
Rejoicing  ;  (b)  Mimic  Character  of  the  Dionysiac  Festival.  The  Cult  of 
the  Heroes.  —  In  earlier  chapters  we  have  seen  Greek  lyric  poetry 
developing,  from  the  seventh  century  to  the  beginning  of  the  fifth, 
in  a  remarkable  variety  of  forms.  We  shall  take  up  its  history 
again  a  little  later ;  for  most  of  these  forms  were  to  be  perpetuated 
from  century  to  century,  though  more  or  less  modified  in  character. 
But  it  is  necessary  for- us  first  to  pause  and  study,  as  its  importance 
demands,  the  astonishing  change  which,  during  the  sixth  century, 
produced  from  certain  of  the  lyric  types  the  rich  growth  that  is 
called,  collectively,  the  draana. 

The  cMinge  was  due  principally  to  the  great  religious  influence 
of  the  cult  of  Dionysus.  Whatever  the  origin  of  the  cult,  it  very 
early  spread,  with  the  culture  of  the  vine,  into  a  large  number  of  the 
cantons  of  Greece.  It  was  sldwly  amplified  by  foreign  elements 
from  Thrace,  Lydia,  and  Phrygia ;  and  shaped  by  philosophic  and 
mystic  ideas,  under  the  influence  of  the  religious  movement  called 
Orphism,  or  by  contact  with  the  Eleusinian  Mysteries.  Even  tlie 
science  of  mythology  cannot  trace  exactly  the  progress  of  this  evolu- 
tion.    IJut    literature   is   not   directly   interested   in    it.     The   only 

1  Consult:  Ch.  Magnin,  Origines  du  theatre  moderne,  I,  Paris,  1838;  F.  C. 
Welcker,  Dif  fjriechischen  lYagodien,  3  vols.,  Bonn,  1839;  Patin,  Etudes  sur 
les  trngiqups  grfcqiies,  4  vols.,  Paris,  Hachette,  1841  ;  .1.  Girard,  Lr.  Sentiment 
religieux  en  Grece.  Ill;  Wilamowitz-Mollendorf,  Euripides  Heracles,  vol.  I, 
1st  ed.,  introduction  ;  H.  "Wt-W,  Etudes  sur  le  drame  antique  ;  DoridiXdson,  Theatre 
of  the  Greeks;  Ilaigh,  The  Tragic  Drama  of  the  Greeks,  Oxford,  1896;  Ilaigh, 
The  Attic  Theatre,  OxioTd,  1898. 

164 


Origin  and  Formation  of  Tragedy  165 

thing  in  which  it  is  really  concerned  is  to  understand  the  influence 
which  the  Dionysiac  cult  exercised  on  the  formation  of  the  drama. 

The  influence  of  this  cult  was  due  first  to  the  exaltation  of  feel- 
ing accompanying  it^^  jjyric  poetry  had  indeed  protoundly  stirred 
fiien's  hearts ;  but  there  was  in  it,  even  in  the  expression  of  enthu- 
siasm or  sorrow,  a  principle  of  harmony  and  hence  of  measure.  The 
Dionysiac  exaltation  was  much  deeper _an/1  fre^'*  Tn  jtg  popular 
fonnit  was  an  intoxication,  a  sort  of  momentary  ^elirium ;  anS 
even  in  its  higher- st-ages^lti-aas-^tty^ar^jas^firful  excitation^^ which  spread 
overone^  whole  being.  This  exaltation  was  varied  like  the  cult  itself 
and  adapted  to  its  different  phases.  The  myth  of  Dionysus,  in  its 
essentials,  represents  the  successive  phenomena  in  the  growth  and 
culture  of  the  vine ;  and  like  all  myths  having  to  do  with  the  phe- 
nomena of  nature,  it  is  both  joyous  and  sombre.  The  vine,  which 
seemed  dead  in  winter,  after  having  been  apparently  mutilated  in 
form,  revived  in  spring,  with  a  sort  of  exuberance ;  the  young  shoots 
appeared,  grew  rapidly,  were  covered  with  leaves,  and  finally  the 
fruit  developed.  This  endured  the  heat  of  summer,  which  seemed 
certain  to  dry  it  up ;  but  the  kindly  rain  helped  it  to  swell.  In  the 
autumn,  when  ripe,  it  was  gathered  and  pressed ;  its  juice  flowed  in 
abundance  and  filled  the  vats.  Grape-gathering  was  a  period  of 
noisy  gayety.  Then  the  new  wine  fermented,  was  drawn  off,  and 
put  into  a  cask.  In  the  spring,  there  was  a  new  festival,  no  less 
joyous,  when  at  the  broaching  of  the  cask  people  began  to  drink 
the  wine  of  the  year.  All  this,  reduced  to  myth,  becomes  the 
story  of  a  god  who  at  times  suffered  and  at  times  triumphed.  There 
is  place  in  his  cult  for  the  most  opposing  sentiments ;  and  these 
break  out  in  the  traditional  festival  in  boisterous  demonstrations, 
and  almost  in  violence.  At  certain  .times  there  are  bursts  of  joy, 
laughter,  masquerades  —  an  overflowing  of  mirth  as  in  a  carnival; 
and  these"  gare  rise  to  comedy.  At  other  times  there  are  lamenta- 
tions and  dirges  of  mourning,  in  which  Were  raguely  presented  an 
image  of  huma«  destiny  foi^jed  thi-ough  sorrowful  vicissitudes- by 
higher  powers ;  and  these  gave  rise  to  tragedy. 

The  Dionysiac  cult,  however,  furnished  the  drama,  not  only  with 
tlisi_sentiments  it  needed,  but  also  with  the  law  of  its  development, 


starting  from  a  mimic  instinct!  Several  Greek  cults  allowed  more 
or  less  complete  representation  of  certain  parts  of  the  myth  relating 
to  the  gods  that  they  celebrated.  In  a  way,  their  actions  and  suffer- 
ings were  represented,  at  least  in  elementary  form  ;  but  no  other 
cult  could  be  compared  in  this  respect  with  that  of  Dionysus.  In 
the  state  of  exaltation  inseparable  from  it,  the  devotees  readily  iden- 
tified themselves  with  their  srod  or  his  liabitual  comi)anions.     In  the 


166  Greek  Literature 

joy  and  delirium  of  intoxication,  every  sort  of  mimicry  was  admis- 
sible. Even  in  sadness,  it  was  a  pleasure  to  imagine  things  as  pres- 
ent; and,  the  better  to  give  this  impression,  men  were  disguised  so 
as  to  resemble  the  personages  about  whose  adventures  they  were 
singing.  Choruses  of  men  dressed  in  goatskins  and  calling  them- 
selves "goats"  (rpdyoi)  represented  the  satyrs,  turbulent  companions 
of  Bacchus.  And  these  satyric  choruses  were  the  earliest  form  of 
tragedy. 

But  tragedy  might  never  have  been  developed  had  not  another 
cult,  that  of  the  heroes,  sprung  up  in  Greece  at  the  same  time  as 
that  of  Dionysus.  The  epic  heroes  were  in  a  sense  the  particular 
gods  of  cities  and  families.  They  were  to  grow  more  important  as 
the  groups  of  Greek  people  were  organized,  under  aristocratic  in- 
fluence, more  completely  into  states  or  cities.  The  heroes  were  pro- 
tectors of  these  states,  and  the  states  were  proud  of  the  heroes. 
The  lyric  poetry  of  the  seventh  century,  and  particularly  the  works 
of  Stesichorus,  show  what  spjendor  their  festivals  then  had  in  Sicily 
and  Magna  Groecia.  They  were  held  in  equally  high  esteem  in  Greece 
proper.  Herodotus  speaks  of  a  cult  established  by  the  city  of  Sicyon 
to  the  Argive  hero  Adrastus.  This  was  in  the  time  of  the  tyrant 
Cleisthenes,  in  the  beginning  of  the  sixth  century.  He  tells  us  that 
the  ceremonies  of  this  cult  stirred  the  passions  of  the  people.  The  com- 
memoration of  heroes  by  stories  sung  about  their  deeds  was  already, 
in  a  fundamental  sense,  tragedy.  The  subjects  were  the  same,  and 
the  emotions  of  the  public  did  not  differ  very  much  from  those  felt 
later  by  the  auditors  of  ^'Escliylus.  l^oth  saw  displayed  before  their 
imagination  the  spectacle  of  a  heroic  human  race,  in  which  they 
could  see  the  play  of  their  own  passions  and  deepest  feelings.  Al- 
ready, no  doubt,  the  spectacle  filled  them  with  admiration,  pity, 
terror,  and  sym])athy,  each  in  turn.  This  elementary  tragedy  wanted 
only  the  dramatic  form,  and  we  shall  soon  see  how  that  want  was 
satisfied. 

^2.  The  Dithyramb  and  "Tragic"  Songs  in  the  North  of  the  Pelo- 
ponnesus.—  "Tragedy,"  says  Aristotle,  "was  formed  by  those  who  led 
in  (diaiiting  the  dithyramb"  (tK  tCjv  i^apxovTwv  rov  Si^wpa/x/Sov,  Bek- 
ker,  p.  1449  a).  He  adds,  in  the  same  phrase,  that  tragedy  was  at  first 
im])rovised  (auToo-;(eSuxo-TiK7;).  This  classical  passage  shows  us,  very 
briefly,  a  starting-point  about  which  there  can  be  no  doubt.  We 
have  already  seen  the  nature  of  the  dithyramb,  and  how  it  became  a 
literary  type  at  Corinth  after  the  end  of  the  seventh  century.  But  in 
speaking  of  improvisation,  Aristotle  seems  to  imjdy  that  it  arose 
rather  from  the  poi)ular,  than  from  the  elegant,  dithyramb.  The 
precentor  (6  i$dpx<^v)  was  a  singer  who  probably  developed  his  narra- 


Origin  and  Formation  of  Tragedy  167 

tive  rather  freely  and  in  easy  rhythm.  The  chorus,  composed  ordi- 
narily of  satyrs,  answered  him  in  passages  that  were  committed  to 
memory  beforehand,  though  possibly  mingling  with  them  cries  of 
pain.  In  default  of  evidence,  we  cannot  form  a  clear  idea  of  these 
chants.  What  Aristotle  puts  beyond  doubt  is  the  importance  of  the 
function  devolving  on  the  i^ap-^^yiv,  and  of  the  part  left  free  for  improvi- 
sation. The  presence  of  satyrs  is  proved  from  another  passage  of  the 
same  author,  very  near  the  preceding  one.  Here  he  says  expressly 
that  tragedy  was  a  transformation  of  the  satyr-play  (8ia  to  £k  o-arv- 

piKOV  fierafSaXelv,  ibid.^.  '      ■ — ■ • 

— -;  Such  improvisations  were  first  given  in  the  beginning  af  the  sixth 
century,  Iprobably  in  several  parts  of  Greece,  but  especially  in  the 
north  Uli^the  Peloponnesus,  around  Sicyon  and  Corinth;  for  it  is  at 
Sicyon  that  the  satyric  form  of  the  cult  of  Dionysus  was  most  at 
home.  One  may,  accordingly,  consider  this  region  of  Greece,  if  not 
as  the  birthplace  of  tragedy,  at  least  as  the  place  where  its  destinies 
were  shaped.  The  testimony  of  Herodotus,  already  quoted,  shows 
in  particular  that  the  "  tragic  "  songs  which  were  in  use  there  do  not 
belong  exclusively  to  Dionysus,  but  include  also  some  local  heroic 
legends.  This  explains  why  an  ancient  tradition,  well  worthy  of 
notice,  points  out  as  the  first  author  of  tragedy  a  Sicyonian, 
Epigenus,  who  is  represented  as  a  predecessor  of  Thespis.^  The 
name  Epigenus  in  itself  signifies  little.  The  fact  to  be  remembered  is 
that,  in  the  beginning  of  the  sixth  century,  lyric  poets  of  Sicyon  were 
composing  dithyrambs  or  tragic  chants  differing  little  from  the 
forms  of  tragedy  at  Athens. 

3.  Thespis.  Creation  of  Primitive  Tragedy.  Institution  of  Tragic 
ContesTs'Tr' Athens.-  —  Nevertheless  it  is  in  Attica  that  tragedy 
proper  arose  ;  and  the  man  designated  as  its  father,  by  the  unanimous 
assent  of  antiquity,  was  Thespis. 

Born  about  580  in  the  deme  of  Icaria,  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 
Isthmus,  it  can  scarcely  be  doubted  that  he  felt  early  and  deeply  the 
influence  of  the  masters  of  Sicyon  whom  we  have  mentioned.  A 
composer  of  rustic  dithyrambs  such  as  they,  he  must  have  written 
lyric  works  at  first  scarcely  distinguishable  from  their  own.  But  he 
was  endowed  with  inventive  genius,  and  did  not  hesitate  to  modify 
considerably  the  traditional  forms  of  tragic  chants  and  create  some- 
thing original. 

His  great  invention  was  the  introduction  of  an  actor.  The  e^apx^v 
of  the  dithyramb  apparently  was  simply  leader  of  the   chorus  or 

'  Suidas,  ft.v.  O^a-irn. 

-  The  fragments  of  Thespis  are  merely  vague  titles  of  dramas.  See  Wagner, 
Puetarum  Tragicorum  Fragmenta,  3  vols.,  Ratisbon,  184(5-1852. 


168  Greek  Literature 

coryphaeus  ;  he  was  too  closely  associated  with  the  chorus  to  be  able 
'  to  play  a  distinct  and  really  personal  role.  Thespis  originated  the 
idea  of  associating  with  the  tragic  chorus  a  reciter,  who  should  not 
be  part  of  it.  There  was  already  some  dramatic  fiction ;  for  the 
chorus  at  Sicyon,  as  is  seen  from  the  fact  that  it  was  composed,  in 
part  at  least,  of  satyrs,  merely  played  a  role.  The  reciter  entered 
into  this  fiction,  and  was  regarded  as  a  personage  participating  in 
the  action.  His  proper  function  was  to  converse  with  the  chorus,  most 
often,  doubtless,  replying  to  its  questions  by  reciting  verses.  Hence 
the  name  "  answerer" ;  for  such  seems  really  to  have  been  the  prim- 
itive sense  of  the  word  vTro/cptri^s  (actor).  After  that,  the  narrative 
element,  necessarily  limited  in  the  dithyramb,  became  susceptible  of 
extension  and  variety ;  it  was  possible  to  characterize  the  situation 
more  clearly,  and  even  to  vary  it.  Thus  action  was  developed  ;  for 
the  progress  of  the  narrative  element  was  really  progress  of  the  dra- 
matic element.  Dialogue  appeared  in  the  same  process,  at  least  in 
elementary  form.  The  interlacing  of  songs  with  corresponding  nar- 
ratives was  really  dialogue.  The  plays  attributed  to  Thespis  are  now 
known  only  by  titles  whose  authenticity  cannot  be  guaranteed.  Such 
titles  are  Tlie  Funeral  Games  of  Pelias,  Tlie  Priests,  The  Youths,  and 
Pentheus.  In  any  event,  it  is  beyond  doubt  that  their  subjects  were 
freely  borrowed  from  the  whole  body  of  heroic  legends,  and  no  longer 
simply  from  those  of  Dionysus. 

When  Thespis  had  thus  transformed  his  dithyramb,  did  he  elimi- 
nate from  it  the  satyrs  ?     Probably  not,  at  least  in  the  beginning, 
since  the  new  type  took,  or  kept,  the  name  of  tragedy  {Tpay^hia,  song 
of  the  TpdyoL,  men  dressed  in   goatskins).     Moreover,  the   costume 
was  one  of  the  attractions  of  this  poetry.     It  was  at  first  difficult 
to  alter.     But  Thespis  certainly  tended  to  make  the  heroic  part  of 
his  elementary  drama  superior  to  the  satyric ;    and  it  is  even  prob- 
able that,  once  successful,  he  induced  his  public  to  accept  tragedies 
without  satyrs.     The  chorus,  as  found  in  classic  tragedy,  is  nowhere 
described  as  a  novelty  of  the  fifth  century ;    and  it  must  have  been 
commonly  employed  in  the  sixth  century,  at  least  in  its  second  half. 
I  I — '  Thus  about  o.lO  we  see  the  tragic  drama  constituted,  with  an  actor 
I  playing  various  roles  in  turn  (hero,  messenger,  servant),  and  a  chorus 
/  no  longtn-  formed  of  satyrs.     How  and  on  Avliat  occasions  were  the 
/._ plays  of  Tlies])is  produced?     Horace,  evidently  following  the  tradi- 
tions of  the  Alexandrian  schools,  tells  us  that  Thespis  v:ent  about  ivith 
his  iiUvjs  on  irarjons  (A. P.  27G).     There  is  no  reason  to  doubt  his  tes- 
timony.   One  has  only  to  interpret  it.    Thesi)is  probably  represented 
his  dramas  in  tlie  denies  of  Attica  at  the  festivals  of  Dionysus,  and 
particularly  tlie  autumnal  festival.     Dcnibtless  he  was  both  actor  and 


Origin  and  Formation  of  Tragedy  169 

manager.  One  can  tliink  of  him  as  a  stranger  who  arrived,  some 
days  before  the  festival,  in  the  deme  with  which  he  had  made  liis 
contract,  bringing  his  apparatus  with  him  on  a  large  cart.  There 
he  formed  a  chorus,  and  gave  it  a  summary  training.  Then,  when  the 
day  arrived,  he  otfered  his  production  in  the  public  square,  perhaps 
using  his  chariot,  decorated  for  the  purpose,  for  certain  pompous 
entrees.  All  this  was  of  course  rather  simple,  but  it  pleased  by  its 
novelty.  His  success  seems  to  have  been  great  and  rapid.  Tragedy 
thus  won  favor  side  by  side  with  the  dithyramb,  for  that  still  con- 
tinued. If  we  may  believe  Plutarch,  Solon,  who  died  about  559,  saw 
a  tragedy  in  his  extreme  old  age.  Pisistratus  saw  fit  to  favor  tragedy, 
that  he  might  please  the  people.  Regaining  possession  of  his  power 
in  539,  after  his  second  exile,  he  wished  to  make  the  Athenians  for- 
get their  liberties  by  giving  them  fine  festivals.  According  to  the 
chronicles  of  Paros,  which  are  in  agreement  with  Suidas,  Thespis 
won  the  prize  in  a  dramatic  contest  between  536  and  534.  This  was 
probably  the  first  tragic  contest  at  Athens.  One  may  assert  that 
it  formed  part  of  one  of  the  spring  festivals  of  Dionysus  in  the 
city  —  probably  the  Lenaean  festival,  as  embellished  by  Pisis- 
tratus. 

So  tragedy  gained  a  footing  in  Athens  which  it  was  never  to 
lose.  Henceforth  it  became  part  of  the  yearly  festival  of  the  city 
to  Dionysus,  and  shared  its  fortunes.  And  this  was  the  occasion  for 
certain  improvements  in  representation.  There  was  then  no  thea- 
tre. Tragedy,  like  the  dithyramb,  was  played  at  Athens  in  the  agora, 
where  the  people  took  their  places  on  temporary  seats.  According 
to  Horace,  the  actor,  in  the  time  of  Thespis,  stained  his  face  with 
the  lees  of  wine.  Other  witnesses  speak  of  white  lead,  purslane, 
or  cloth  masks.  There  is  no  reason  for  disbelieving  that  an  inventor 
like  Thespis,  in  the  course  of  a  long  life,  modified  and  improved 
his  material  equipment  several  times.  The  contrary  would  be  sur- 
prising. He  must  also  have  given  his  chorus  and  himself  costumes 
befitting  their  roles,  that  he  might  enhance  the  dramatic  illusion. 
But  he  seems  to  have  been  easily  content  in  this  respect,  for  it  is  to- 
^5^]sehylus  that  the  invention  of  the  tragic  costume  proper  is  attrib- 
uted. A  contest  presupposes  rules  and  an  organization.  Tlie 
number  of  com{)etitors  and  the  number  of  plays  admitted  to  repre- 
sentation was  necessarily  limited  from  the  beginning.  We  shall  see 
that  in  the  next  century  the  competitors  were  three  in  number,  and 
each  presented  four  plays.  The  rule  certainly  was  developed  from 
the  usage  of  the  sixth  century  ;  but  from  one  epoch  to  the  other, 
many  changes  must  have  been  made,  and  the  succession  of  them 
has  been  lost. 


170  Greek  Literature 

4.  Successors  of  Thespis :  Choerilus  and  Phrynichus.^  —  The  very 
institution  of  a  contest  shows  that,  in  the  second  half  of  the  sixth 
century,  the  new  type  was  cultivated  simultaneously  by  a  somewhat 
large  number  of  poets — contemporaries  or  immediate  successors  of 
Thespis.     Two  only  need  be  named  here  —  Choerilus  and  Phrynichus. 

Choerilus  is  known  from  evidences  so  uncertain  and  so  conflicting 
that  it  is  not  worth  while  to  pause  and  study  him  or  his  work.  He 
seems  to  have  lived  after  Thespis  and  before  ^Eschylus ;  perhaps  he 
belongs  rather  to  the  fifth  century  than  to  the  sixth.  There  is  noth- 
ing improbable  in  the  testimony  of  those  who  attribute  to  him,  vaguely 
however,  certain  improvements  in  costumes  and  masks.  A  versified 
proverb  represents  him  as  one  of  the  masters  of  the  satyr-drama ; 
but  there  is  nothing  to  prove  that  he  preceded  Pratinas,  of  whom  we 
shall  speak  shortly. 

Phrynichus  has  been  less  deeply  plunged  in  oblivion,  yet  our 
knowledge  of  him  is  no  better  defined.  According  to  Suidas,  he  was 
an  Athenian,  and  victor  in  a  dramatic  contest  of  the  sixty-seventh 
Olympiad  (512-509).  This  is  possibly  the  date  of  his  first  victory. 
We  know  from  Plutarch  that  he  won  again  in  476.  The  two  dates 
determine  approximately  the  period  of  his  success.  He  preceded 
^schylus  a  few  years,  and  was  the  most  brilliant  tragic  poet  of 
Athens  between  510  and  480.  Suidas  attributes  to  him  the  intro- 
duction of  feminine  characters ;  yet  perhaps  all  lie  did  was  to  per- 
fect the  masks  and  costumes.  At  any  rate,  with  him  tragedy  seems 
to  have  gained  much  in  brilliance,  variet}'  of  sentiment,  emotions, 
and  even  material  equipment.  Twice,  at  least,  he  tried  to  deal  with 
contemporary  subjects.  About  495  he  represented  a  recent  histori- 
cal incident,  the  Capture  of  Miletus.  The  play  is  said  to  have  made 
the  Athenians  weep,  though  it  excited  their  anger  against  the  poet. 
Again,  some  twenty  years  later,  probably  in  47(5,  he  took  as  the  subject 
of  his  Phmnician  Women  the  defeat  of  Xerxes  at  Salamis,  a  subject 
which  ^Eschylus,  in  turn,  was  to  treat  in  the  Persians.  We  know 
only  about  a  dozen  titles  of  his  tragedies,  and  some  fragments. 
Aristophanes  several  times  praises  the  beauty  of  his  lyric  chants,  a 
number  of  which  were  still  popular  at  that  time.  It  is  probable  that 
the  lyric  element  was  predominant  in  his  plays.  It  remained  for 
iEschyhis  to  bring  to  its  full  value  the  dramatic  element. 

5.  The  Satyr-Drama :  Pratinas."  —  In  the  hands  of  these  various 
poets,  tragedy  was  more  and  more  divested  of  the  elements  foreign 

^  Cf.  the  foot-note,  p.  167.  See  also  Nauck,  Tragicnrum  Grcecorum  Frag- 
vxentn.   Ist  ed.,   Loipsir,   185*5. 

•^  Consult :  The  wr)rks  of  Wajjner  and  Nanrk,  sup.  rit.  ;  also  Welcker,  Ab- 
hnndlung  lihrr  das  Satyrspiel,  Frankfort,  182t>,  in  Xachtrag  zur  aeschylischen 


Origin  and  Formation  of  Tragedy  171 

to  its  nature  —  particularly  the  satyrs.  In  the  beginning  of  the  fifth 
century  these  were  definitely  debarred  from  its  choruses.  But  at  the 
same  time  they  reappeared  in  the  theatre  in  a  kindred  composition, 
to  which  they  gave  their  name. 

Our  information  as  to  the  origin  of  the  satyr-drama  is  confused 
and  untrustworthy.  We  hear  that  the  people  loved  the  satyrs ;  that 
when  deprived  of  them,  they  clamored  for  them  in  the  name  of 
religion,  declaring  that  there  was  no  longer  anything  for  Dionysus 
in  tragedy  (ovSkv  vrpos  Atowo-ov);  and  that  the  satyric  type  was  created 
to  satisfy  their  demands.  The  historic  truth  contained  in  the  tale 
can  be  gleaned  only  by  conjecture. 

It  is  probable  that  the  transformation  wrought  in  the  dithyramb 
by  Thespis  had  its  influence  in  the  neighboring  states.  The  mas- 
ters of  Sicyon,  after  having  given  him  lessons,  received  some  from 
him,  and  began,  in  the  second  half  of  the  sixth  century,  likewise  to 
write  tragedies.  Yet  they  wrote  them  in  the  manner  of  Sicyon. 
Instead  of  eliminating  the  satyrs,  who  were  really  indigenous  there, 
they  assigned  to  them  the  functions  of  the  chorus ;  and  so,  by  the  side  of 
Attic  tragedy,  which  had  no  satyrs,  there  arose  a  Peloponnesian 
tragedy,  imitated  from  the  preceding,  but  provided  with  satyrs.  The 
latter  was  taken  to  Athens  about  500  by  a  poet  of  Phlius,  named 
Fratinas.  We  know  nothing  more  about  him,  except  that  he  com- 
peted at  Athens  against  .^schylus  and  Choerilus  in  the  seventieth 
Olympiad  (500-497),  and  that  he  was  the  first  to  write  satyric  drama 
(koI  TTpwro?  lypaxpc  aaTvpov<i,  Suidas).  It  is  probable  that  about  500, 
Pratinas  merely  took  part  in  a  dramatic  contest  at  Athens  with  a 
satyr-play,  which  he  presented  as  an  ordinary  tragedy.  His  suc- 
cess restored  the  satyrs  to  favor ;  yet  the  Athenians  were  not  will- 
ing to  renounce  their  own  purely  heroic  tragedy.  They  preferred  to 
associate  the  two  types,  and  soon  the  association  was  prescribed  by 
law ;  the  poets  who  took  part  in  a  dramatic  contest  were  to  present 
three  ordinary  tragedies  and  a  satyr-drama.  ]*ratinas  continued  to 
be  the  master  of  the  type  while  he  lived,  and  bequeathed  the  honor 
to  his  son  Aristias.  After  him,  all  the  great  Athenian  tragic  poets 
composed  satyr-dramas. 

This  drama  is,  then,  only  a  special  form  of  tragedy,  more  akin  to 
the  primitive  type.  It  preserved,  together  with  the  role  of  the 
satyrs,  its  fantasy,  its  laughter  mingled  with  lamentation,  and  its 
licentious  witticisms.  Its  structure  does  not  differ  essentially  from 
that  of  classic  tragedy ;  but  it  is,  so  to  speak,  a  provincial  tragedy, 
arrested  in  development,  —  the  tragedy  of  Sicyon  in  the  sixth  cen- 

Tragodie ;  Wieseler,  Das  Sntyrspicl,  Gottin,c;en.  1848;  J.  Denys,  Le  Drame 
satyrique,  in  the  Aiuiales  de  la  Faculte  de  Lcttrcs  dc  Caen,  5*  ann^e,  No.  2. 


172  Greek  Literature 

tury,  slightly  Atticized,  —  still  bearing  the  imprint  of  its  time  and 
origin.  Relegated  by  the  Athenians  to  a  secondary  rank,  it  remained 
shorter  than  tragedy  proper ;  for  it  seems  to  have  been  content  to 
the  last  with  two  actors.  But  its  subjects  are  taken  from  the 
same  legends,  and  its  personages  belong  to  the  same  race  of  gods 
and  heroes.  The  great  difference  is  that  it  possesses  a  merrier 
humor.  In  the  words  of  Demetrius  of  Phaleron,  it  is  a  "gay 
tragedy,"  irat'^ovo-a  TpaywSta.  Adventures  both  terrible  and  comical 
constituted  its  material.  The  personages  were  now  bold  and  now 
ludicrous.  Monsters  were  not  excluded.  But  the  action  always 
turned  out  happily.  A  certain  coarseness  was  admissible,  owing  to 
the  character  of  the  satyrs ;  yet  the  coarseness  had  its  limits,  and 
could  never  be  displayed  broadly  as  in  comedy.  It  was  really  a 
composite  drama,  capable  of  amusing  inventions,  but  presenting 
great  difficulties,  ^schylus,  Sophocles,  and  Euripides  succeeded 
with  it  as  with  tragedy.  However,  the  satyric  type  seems  never  to 
have  risen  to  the  same  degree  of  respect. 

6.  Nature  of  Tragic  Contests  in  the  Fifth  Century.^  —  The  intro- 
duction of  satyr-drama  into  the  tragic  contest  at  the  beginning  of 
the  fifth  century  completed  the  system  of  representing  tragedy. 
From  this  time  on  the  representation,  no  doubt,  was  several  times 
essentially  modified,  and  we  shall  note  some  of  the  modifications 
later.  But  before  studying  the  great  poets  who  introduced  them,  it 
is  indispensable  to  get  certain  general  notions  about  the  manner  in 
which  their  plays  were  represented  at  Athens,  and  about  the  normal 
structure  of  a  tragedy. 

In  Greece,  tragedy  was  one  of  the  ceremonies  of  the  state 
religion.  Springing  from  the  rites  of  the  Dionysiac  cult,  it  remained, 
throughout  the  whole  classic  period,  a  tribute  of  homage  rendered 
by  the  city  to  one  of  its  divinities. 

The  first  consequence  of  this  fact  is  that  tragedy  was  not  played, 
as  with  us,  at  any  time  whatever,  nor  even  frequently.  It  was  as 
closely  connected  with  the  cult  of  Dionysus  as  certain  offices  with 
us  are  with  stated  festivals.  This  does  not  mean  that  it  formed  a 
necessary  part  of  every  Dionysiac  festival.  Usage  seems  to  have 
reserved  it,  in  Attica  at  least,  for  the  Dionysia  of  the  Fields 
{to.  ^iovvaui  TO.  KaT  aypov<;),  the  LeucCa,  and  the  Dionysia  of  the  City 
or  Great  Dionysia  {rh.  h  darei).     But  the  Dionysia  of  the  Fields  was 


1  Consult:  A.  Mtiller,  Grifcluschp  BUfnit'naltrrtuinfr.YreihxiTii,  188(5;  Haigh, 
TTie  Attic  TItiiitrc,  Oxford,  18!>8  ;  Oemiclien,  Dan  IVuhneniricsen  dcr  Griechen 
und  Jidnu-r,  in  vol.  V  of  Iwan  Miiller's  HuniUinrh  ;  ().  Navarre,  Dionysos,  Paris, 
18'.).') ;  Dr.rpfekl  und  Reisch,  Das  ijricchisrhc  Tfuntcr,  Athens,  189G  ;  Betlie,  Pro- 
lifjomain  zur  (iischicldi-  d(-s  T/catcrs  im  AU'-rtum,  Leipsic,  1896. 


Origin  and  Formation  of  Tragedy  173 

a  modest  rustic  festival  celebrated  by  the  demes ;  the  Lenaea  were 
particularly  joyous,  and  so  suitable  for  comedy.  Accordingly  the 
great  tragic  representations  were  at  the  time  of  the  City  Dionysia, 
which  took  place  in  spring  in  the  month  of  Elaphebolion  (March- 
April).  This  was  the  time,  in  the  days  of  the  city's  glory,  when  the 
allied  states  came  to  the  Piraeus,  bringing  their  tribute  and  their 
merchandise.     It  was  then  that  new  tragedies  were  represented. 

The  task  of  organizing  the  contest  for  this  festival  Avas  vested  in 
the  Archon  Eponymus.  The  poets  went  to  him  to  obtain  a  chorus,  /  y 
that  is,  for  the  privilege  of  having  their  plays  brought  out.  The  I 
archon  chose  three  of  them  at  his  pleasure,  probably  those  who 
seemed  best  able  to  please  the  people  ;  and  it  was  between  these 
that  the  contest  took  place.  Each  of  them  was  to  present  three 
tragedies  and  a  satyr-drama.  We  shall  later  study  this  grouping 
when  we  take  up  iEschylus.  The  plays  thus  chosen  were  in  a  way 
lent  to  the  state  by  the  poet  in  return  for  a  remuneration,  which 
constituted  his  salary. 

The  tragedies  were  turned  over  by  the  archon  to  the  charge  of 
choregi.  The  tragic  choregia  at  Athens  was  a  contribution  imposed 
on  the  richer  citizens,  each  in  his  turn.  The  three  choregi  were 
nominated  by  the  tribes  for  each  contest  of  the  Great  Dionysia,  and 
had  to  organize  the  choruses  and  pay  for  their  training  and  equip- 
ment ;  all  the  expenses  were  at  their  cost.  The  chorus  of  each 
tragedy  seems  to  have  consisted  of  twelve  persons  in  the_time  of 
^Eschylus,  and  fifteeTTTTi  the  time  oFTSophocles  and  afterward.  In 
the  beginning,  the  poet'^itmself  taright  the  choreutes;  and  by  reason 
of  these  functions,  he  received  the  title  of  chorus-trainer  (;^o/Do8iSa(rKa- 
Aos).  Later  the  task  was  ordinarily  assigned  to  professional  men 
who  made  it  their  business.  In  addition,  the  chorus  had  a  leader 
named  coryphaeus,  who,  during  the  representation,  directed  it  and  in 
certain  cases  spoke  in  its  name.  The  choreutes,  like  the  actors,  had 
costumes  and  wore  masks,  but  their  equipage  was  less  pompous  and 
cumbersome ;  for  they  represented,  in  general,  common  people  ;  and 
besides,  being  obliged  to  perform  evolutions  in  cadence  and  even  to 
dance,  they  could  not  be  burdened  nor  encumbered. 

The  actors  were  recruited  and  paid  by  the  state.  In  primitive 
times,  the  poets  played  the  principal  roles  of  their  dramas.  This  cer-| 
tainly  was  true  of  Thespis  and  his  immediate  successors,  ^schylus 
was  an  actor,  at  least  for  the  greater  part  of  his  life  ;  but  Sopliocles 
played  only  in  his  youth.  Then  the  usage  disappeared.  jNIiniic  art, 
becojning  more  difficult,  needed  specialists.  Toward  the  middle  of 
the  fifth  century  there  were  no  longer  any  but  professional  actors. 
Thespis,    as    we   have  seen,  introduced  the  first  actor,      ^schylus 


174  Greek  Literature 

introduced  a  second.  Sophocles,  even  in  his  youth,  was  permitted  to 
bring  on  the  third,  an  innovation  by  which  ^Eschylus,  too,  profited 
toward  the  close  of  his  life.  The  number  three  was  never  exceeded. 
The  three  actors  shared  the  different  parts,  each  of  them  being  able, 
of  course,  to  play  several.  In  exceptional  cases,  if  a  fourth  per- 
sonage was  absolutely  necessary  to  pronounce  some  few  words, 
recourse  was  had  to  a  supply  actor.  He  was  called  a  parachoregema 
(irafMxopTJyrjfm),  probably  because  he  constituted  an  extra  expense 
at  the  charge  of  the  choregus.  The  three  regular  actors  were  not 
equal  one  to  the  other,  but  were  distinguished  as  first  (Trpwraycovto-nys), 
second  (Scvrepaytovto-TT;?),  and  third  (TpiTaywvto-Tiys).  We  shall  have 
occasion  to  point  out  later  what  value  was  attached  to  the  distinc- 
tion by  each  of  the  tragic  poets.  In  general,  it  depended  on  the 
importance  of  the  parts ;  and  it  always  exercised  a  considerable 
influence  on  the  internal  constitution  of  the  plays.  For  Athenian 
customs  did  not  permit  women  to  appear  on  the  scene,  and  the  actors 
had  to  play  both  male  and  female  parts. 

Coming  now  to  the  representation  itself,  we  shall  try  to  show  how 
it  was  performed. 

From  the  end  of  the  sixth  century,  probably,  tragedies  were 
played  in  a  theatre ;  but  the  word  seems  to  have  been  applied  suc- 
cessively to  very  diverse  objects,  about  which  our  information  is 
very  imperfect. 

A  theatre  (diarpov)  is  properly  the  place  where  one  can  see 
{OtaadaC),  that  is,  where  one  sits  and  looks  on  at  a  spectacle.  In 
the  beginning,  a  public  square,  or  an  open  space  near  a  temple  of 
Dionysus,  was  sufficient,  especially  if  the  natural  slope  of  the  ground 
were  suitable.  Later,  wooden  seats  were  erected;  and  still  later, 
they  were  built  in  stone.  We  cannot  enter  here  into  the  details  of 
this  obscure  development.  We  may  say  simply  that,  in  the  time  of 
.(Eschylus,  and  even  in  that  of  Sophocles  and  Euripides,  the  material 
equipment  of  the  theatre  was  still  quite  simple.  The  great  stone 
edifices  date  only  from  the  next  century.  In  the  fifth  century, 
tragedies  were  played  at  the  Great  Dionysia,  near  the  temple  of 
Dionysus  Eleuthereus  to  the  south  of  the  Acropolis. 

An  amphitheatre  of  seats,  chiselled  or  built  in  the  rock,  covered 
(the  slope  of  the  hill.  About  twenty  thousand  spectators  could  be 
accommodated.  At  the  base  of  the  seats  was  a  circular  space, 
carefully  levelled,  or  even  paved  with  flagstones,  forming  a  danc- 
ing-place or  orchestra.  In  the  middle  stood  an  altar.  The  orches- 
tra was  the  regular  place  for  the  evolutions  of  the  chorus.  Two 
entrances  (TrdpoSot),  one  at  the  left  of  the  spectators  and  the  other 
at   the    right,   served   for   ingress   and   egress.      According   to   the 


Origin  and  Formation  of  Tragedy  175 

demands  and  exigencies  of  the  drama,  the  chorus  moved  in  ranks 
or  in  files,  crossed  the  orchestra,  and  its  members  grouped  them- 
selves about  the  altar,  or  advanced  up  to  the  "  scene  "  —  of  which  we 
shall  speak  further.  At  times,  it  marched  with  rhythmic  step  as  it 
sang  to  the  accompaniment  of  a  flute-player ;  and  at  times  it  danced. 
The  tragic  dance  j)ar  excellence  was  the  slow  and  serious  ififieXeui, 
which  was  quite  different  from  the  tumultuous  dance  of  comedy. 
Sometimes  the  chorus  stood  still.  It  was  the  primitive  element  of 
tragedy.  Although  its  importance  constantly  decreased,  one  may 
say  that,  during  the  whole  of  the  fifth  century,  it  contributed  much, 
by  the  splendor  of  its  costumes,  the  grace  of  its  movements,  and  the 
beauty  of  its  chants,  to  the  dramatic  effect. 

At  the  back  of  the  orchestra,  facing  the  spectators,  rose  the  scene 
{(TK-qvrj).  This  was  the  name  reserved  for  the  building  where  the 
actors  and  operators  were  —  or  more  specially,  the  fagade  of  the 
building  toward  the  seats.  However  simple  at  the  beginning,  its 
construction  assumed  real  beauty  in  the  course  of  the  fifth  century, 
even  when  it  consisted  of  a  merely  temporary  framework.  The  front 
faqade  was  adorned,  from  the  time  of  iEschylus,  with  a  movable 
ornamentation  that  received  the  name  of  j)roscenium  (Trpoa-Krjviov). 
The  art  of  the  decorators  perfected  it  from  time  to  time.  It  was 
composed  of  painted  canvas  and  wooden  panels,  arranged  in  different 
designs.  Often  the  central  decoration  was  a  palace,  and  this  Avas 
finally  the  prevailing  one,  becoming  almost  regular  in  the  next 
century.  The  faqade  must  have  been  enclosed,  at  an  indefinite 
date,  by  wings  (TrapaaKT^vta)  ;  we  have  no  good  information  on  the 
subject.  Behind  the  faqade  were  concealed  various  machines,  such 
as  those  used  to  imitate  the  distant  rumblings  of  thunder^  or  those 
adapted  to  make  possible  the  appearance  of  the  gods  in  mid-air 
above  the  jiroscenium.  The  most  remarkable,  though  least  well 
understood,  seems  to  have  been  the  eccyclema,  a  rolling  platform, 
which  advanced  in  front  of  the  scene,  and  was  used  to  remove  the 
panels  when  the  public  was  to  see  the  interior  of  a  temple  or  palace. 

Ordinarily  the  actors  remained  in  front  of  the  scene.  Were  they, 
as  was  long  believed,  and  as  they  were  in  the  Koiuan  period,  on  a 
stage  dominating  the  orchestra  ?  Recent  investigations  would  show 
the  contrary.  The  study  of  tragedy  in  the  fifth  century  would  be 
full  of  difficulties,  if  the  actors  had  been  separated  from  the  chorus 
by  any  considerable  difference  of  elevation.  In  fact,  very  often  they 
entered  from  the  orchestra,  sometimes  even  riding  on  chariots, 
and  accompanied  by  a  procession  of  attendants.  They  crossed  the 
orchestra,  at  all  events.  The  chorus,  too,  went  in  a  body,  if  neces- 
sary, as  far  as  the  door  of  the  palace,  or  as  far  as  the  ornamentations 


176  Greek  Literature 

of  the  scene.  Sometimes,  as  in  the  Prometheus  or  the  Eumenides  of 
^schylus,  the  chorus  entered  from  the  middle  of  this  ornamentation. 
But  it  is  beyond  doubt  that,  in  the  course  of  the  play,  the  actors  gen- 
erally stood  opposite  the  decorations  of  the  scene,  while  the  chorus 
was  grouped  together,  preferably  some  distance  from  there,  in  the 
orchestra.  When  the  scene  represented  a  palace,  a  temple  raised 
above  some  steps,  or  possibly  a  mound,  it  might  happen  that  the 
principal  actor,  and  afterward  some  of  the  other  actors,  would 
come  accidentally  to  be  on  a  higher  level,  which  would  bring  them 
into  view  better.  But  this  no  doubt  was  the  exception.  We  do  not 
find  in  the  language  of  the  time  a  single  word  to  designate  a  stage ; 
that  of  Xoyciov  (in  Latin,  imlpitwn)  did  not  appear  till  later. 

The  tragic  actors  always  covered  their  faces  with  masks.  The 
usage  is  probably  religious  in  origin,  and  goes  back  to  the  very  be- 
ginnings of  tragedy.  In  rare  cases  the  mask  could  be  changed  when 
the  actor  left  the  scene;  however,  it  was  expected  to  remain  the 
same  during  long  dialogues.  Hence  it  was  impossible  to  give  it 
a  temporary  expression.  It  could  only  indicate,  simply  and  strik- 
ingly, the  general  character  of  the  role,  marking  principally  the  age 
and  sex  of  the  personage,  and  his  condition  and  dominant  sentiment. 
This  arrangement  was  adapted  to  a  very  large  theatre.  However, 
as  the  niask  showed  the  eyes  and  mouth,  the  actor  still  had  at  his 
disposal  certain  changes  of  feature.  But  his  resources  were  princi- 
pally in  the  chants,  the  declamation,  the  attitudes,  and  the  gestures. 
We  have  testimony  that,  with  these  limited  means,  the  gi-eat  actors 
of  the  fifth  century  obtained  powerful  effects.  Their  art  grew  in 
importance  until  finally  it  imposed  its  demands  on  the  poets ;  these, 
in  the  fourth  century,  needed  to  create  roles  for  certain  actors. 

As  the  mask  restrained  somewhat  the  play  of  features,  so  the 
tragic  costume,  on  its  part,  imposed  limits  of  motion.  After  ^Eschy- 
lus,  if  not  earlier,  it  was  made  up  of  long,  ample  vestments  of  various 
colors,  richly  adorned  and  broidered,  reaching  to  the  ground.  Imi- 
tated from  the  costume  of  hierophants  and  ])riests,  it  was  adapted 
to  represent  tragic  personages,  kings,  heralds,  and  demigods,  in  an 
aspect  of  religious  majesty.  To  increase  the  effect,  the  actors  made 
themselves  taller  by  means  of  thick-soled  sandals,  which  gave  them 
a  superluiman  height.  Of  course  the  subordinate  personages,  though 
likewise  masked,  wore  neither  such  rich  vestments  nor  special 
sandals.  The  heroes  were  thus  distinguished  at  sight  by  their 
appearance ;  and  this  alone  would  give  a  character  of  grandeur  and 
dignity  to  their  roles,  and  so  to  the  whole  tragedy. 

To  complete  these  few  indications  about  the  material  equipment 
of  the  theatre,  and  of  tragic  contests,  we  may  add  that  the  latter 


Origin  and  Formation  of  Tragedy  177 

ended  with  a  formal  decision.  Judges,  chosen  under  conditions  that 
may  have  varied,  and  that  are  not  well  understood,  assigned  ranks 
and  prizes  of  unequal  merit  to  the  three  competitors.  The  official 
reports  of  the  decisions  were  called  didascalia.  Tliey  were  engraved 
on  pillars,  to  preserve  them  as  records.  From  these  they  were  col- 
lected by  such  scholars  of  antiquity  as  occupied  themselves  with  the 
history  of  the  theatre,  and  thereby,  consequently,  have  been  trans- 
mitted to  us. 

7.  Structure  of  Tragedy:  Its  Parts.'  —  If  we  pass  from  the  set- 
ting of  tragedy  to  its  internal  structure,  we  shall  meet  with  a  number 
of  characteristic  traits,  which  it  may  be  well  to  note  here. 

Originating  from  the  dithyramb  by  the  introduction  of  a.  narra- 
tive element,  Greek  tragedy  divided  spontaneously,  from  its  very 
origin,' into"  recited  parts  and  sung  parts.  Both  were  derived  from 
one  common  source  —  the  latter  being  employed  instead  of  the  former 
to  express  a  more  exalted  state  of  feeling.  Two  leading  changes 
transformed  it  from  its  primitive  to  its  classic  form.  Dialogue  more 
and  more  frequently  took  the  place  of  narrative.  Then  the  lyric  ele- 
ment, almost  predominant  at  the  beginning,  and  remaining  so  till  the 
time  of  ^Eschylus,  lost  in  importance ;  while  the  dramatic  element, 
represented  by  dialogue,  gained.  Yet,  even  to  the  last,  traces  of 
the  ancient  condition  of  things  were  manifest  in  the  persistence  of 
the  chorus  and  in  the  fundamental  simplicity  of  the  action. 

This  gave  rise  naturally  to  the  distinction  of  the  parts  of  tragedy. 

The  prologue,  by  the  definition  of  Aristotle,  is  the  part  preceding 
he  entrance  of  the  chorus.  In  some  of  the  tragedies  of  .■Eschylus 
the  chorus  entered  at  the  beginning.  But  this  primitive  usage  dis- 
appeared in  his  old  age.      TJiP  pr^l^^^'f^  b^jjil^^^*^-  ^  prppnrn.ti^ry  «PPT1P^ 

(1§  voted  to .the_expQsiiia»-^-the-pk>t.  The  scene  was  now  a  dialogue, 
now  a  monologue.     In  either  case  it  had  the  same  purpose. 

Aj^^rt  frmn  thp  beginni^tj,  a  tra.o'ndy  jsjjii v hiecl  into  a  ce rtai n 
njAinber  of  main  divisions  called  episodes,  which  correspond  roughly 
to  our  acts.  'I!hti--^>isodes- are  ijicliuled  between  the  cha^  of  the 
chorus.  The  first  f',hn,Tit  I^otp  thp  name  of  parodos ;  the  others  were 
callfHl  stasinia.     The  last  episode  is  sometimes  also  called  the  exode. 

Tlie  parodos,  as  its  name  implies,  is  nothing  other  than  the  song 
for  the  entering  of  a  chorus.  Tlie  word  a-Tdaifxov  properly  means  a 
song  without  motion.  It  signifies  the  principal  lyric  passages  sung 
by  the  chorus  when  that  has  once  taken  its  place  in  the  orchestra, 
whether   these   chants   are   accompanied  by  dances  or  not.     Their 

1  Consult:  B.  Westphal.  rrolcriomonn  zn  Afsrln/his  Tragndii'ii,  Leipsic.  18(19, 
chap.  1  ;  Wilamowitz-MoUendorf.  Enripuhs  Hcriiclcs,  sup.  cit.  ;  Weil,  Lc  Draniv 
cottiquc,  sup.  cit.;  Pauly-Wissowa,  Bcuh'ncyditpddk,  art.  Actus,  0. 

N 


178  Greek  Literature 

essential  function  is  to  mark  the  divisions  of  the  action.  Very  often, 
while  they  were  being  sung,  no  actors  were  present.  In  other  cases, 
the  action  remained  at  least  in  suspense.  Connected  at  first  very 
closely  with  the  story  whose  phases  they  marked,  the  odes  were 
gradually  detached  from  it,  so  as  to  be  transformed  into  veritable 
interludes  (ifx/iokifm).  But  the  transformation,  though  admissible 
from  the  end  of  the  fifth  century,  is  but  slightly  evident  in  the  great 
classic  poets.  This,  therefore,  is  not  the  place  to  dwell  on  it  at 
length. 

The  episodes  might  include,  besides  passages  of  spoken  dialogue, 
shorter  choral  chants  called  episodic ;  lyric  dialogues  between  the 
chorus  and  the  actors  (Ko/x/xot )  ;  duets  between  actors  (ra  dTro  a-Krjvrj^) ; 
and  songs  sung  generally  by  the  protagonist  (^iovwStat).  The  episodes 
were  not  subjected,  like  our  acts,  to  a  common  measure ;  but  there 
were  long  ones  and  short  ones.  In  the  same  play  there  might  be 
great  disproportion.  Nor  was  their  number  rigorously  determined. 
Usage  early  tended,  however,  to  establish  as  normal  the  number  of 
four  episodes,  to  which  were  added  the  prologue.  But  this  usage, 
which  Horace  long  afterward  stated  as  a  rule,'  was  never  rigorously 
followed  by  the  poets  of  the  fifth  century.  Sophocles  particularly 
was  far  from  being  guided  by  it.  The  division  into  five  acts,  of 
whose  origin  we  know  little,  was,  at  any  rate,  not  definitely  established 
till  after  classic  times,  in  the  Alexandrian  period. 

8.  Progress  of  the  Action.  The  Unities.  —  The  various  parts  were 
necessarily  connected  by  a  certain  development  of  interest,  for 
development  is  the  very  law  of  drama.  The  development  was  due 
to  the  structure  of  the  plot.  But  here  each  of  the  great  poets  had 
his  own  method,  and  these  methods  we  shall  try  to  characterize 
later  on.  We  may  say  for  the  present  that,  if  the  action  of  a  Greek 
tragedy  became  more  complex  from  generation  to  generation,  if  it 
gave  more  importance  to  combinations  of  events,  changes  of  fortune, 
recognitions,  and  theatrical  effects,  yet  it  remained  simple  in  com- 
parison with  modern  tragedies.  There  are  generally  few  events, 
and  these  were  not  so  closely  connected  and  linked  together  as  in 
modern  drama.  The  progress  of  the  development,  too,  was  less  har- 
monious. The  personages  are  not  all  named  in  the  prologue,  nor 
all  reunited  in  the  final  scene.  They  appear  when  needed,  and  dis- 
appear when  their  functions  are  performed.  This  was  necessarily 
the  case  in  (ireek  tragedy,  as  it  had  fewer  actors  than  personages. 
But  owing  to  this   necessity,  and  probably  to  the  instincts  of  its 


1  Ars  Poet.,  189  : 


Neve  minor,  neu  sit  quinto  productior  actu 
Fabula,  quae  posci  vult  et  spectata  reponi. 


Origin  and  Formation  of  Tragedy  179 

authors,  it  always  kept  great  natural  simplicity.  Hence  the  terms 
plot  (8e<ns)  and  resolution  (Awns),  and  also  that  of  peripetia  (Trcpi- 
TTtVcui),  although  applied  by  Aristotle  to  Greek  tragedy  in  general, 
must  always  be  understood  in  a  free  sense  when  one  speaks  of  the 
dramas  of  the  fifth  century.  A  plot  is  really  less  a  certain  unex- 
pected incident  than  a  succession  of  scenes  which  gradually  define 
the  situation.  Even  the  peripetia  is  not  always  brusque  nor  vio- 
lent. The  resolution  generally  continues  beyond  the  final  issue,  and 
sometimes  brings  the  situation  relatively  to  peace. 

It  is  from  the  tragic  drama  of  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries  that 
the  theory  of  the  classic  unities  has  been  drawn.  It  is  well  to  state 
here  in  a  few  words  the  historic  value  of  that  theory. 

Unity  of  interest  is  really  a  law  of  art,  being  a  law  of  the  human  ^ 
mind.~  Its  influence  is  especially  felt  in  drama.  -lEschylus  brought 
it  to  light  by  his  examples ;  Sophocles  and  Euripides  observed  it 
after  him.  But  we  must  note  that  it  does  not  seem  to  have  been 
applied  in  Greece  with  the  rigor  that  certain  modern  theorists  have 
wished  to  give  it.  Euripides  particularly  did  not  scruple  to  insert 
episodic  passages  into  the  principal  story.  It  seems  probable  that 
this  was  the  common  practice  in  his  day  and  afterward. 

Unity  of  place  was  rendered  almost  necessary  by  the  continual- 
presence  of  the  chorus.  In  the  existing  plays  there  are  only  two  or 
three  instances  where  the  action  was  shifted  from  one  place  to 
another ;  for  example,  in  the  Eumenides  of  ^schylus  and  the  Ajax 
of  Sophocles.  In  general,  everything  happened  in  a  certain  place, 
which  was  determined  from  the  beginning.  We  must  own,  however, 
that  the  determination  was  often  rather  vague,  especially  in  the  time 
of  ^schylus ;  it  became  more  and  more  precise,  but  certain  liberties 
were  always  allowed.  Often  the  action  took  place  before  a  palace, 
before  a  tent,  or  near  a  tomb.  But  the  objects  represented  are  con- 
sidered as  separated  by  a  fictitious  distance,  suitable  to  the  demands 
of  the  action. 

The  unity  of  time  was  least  rigorously  observed.  The  principle 
seems  to  have  been  that  the  duration  of  the  events  should  be  pre- 
cisely that  of  the  representation,  since  the  chorus  was  present 
throughout  the  action,  and  there  were  no  interludes.  But  it  was  ad- 
mitted by  tacit  convention  that  the  time  represented  as  having 
passed  during  the  stasima  was  purely  fictitious  ;  and  so  what  took 
place  outside  the  scene  during  the  chants  of  the  chorus  might  be 
out  of  proportion  with  the  time  actually  occupied  by  them.  It 
happens,  especially  in  Euripides,  that  between  two  episodes  events 
take  place  which  really  would  have  required  several  hours,  some- 
times even  more  than  a  day.     However,  this  takes  place  out  of  sight 


180  Gh^eek  Literature 

of  the  spectators.  The  visible  action,  which  the  chorus  witnessed 
as  it  was  represented  on  the  scene,  seems  almost  always  to  have 
been  comprised  within  the  time  of  the  representation ;  but  with  this 
exception,  there  was  no  concern  about  the  contradiction  that  resulted. 

Such  are,  very  summarily,  the  conditions,  or  possibly  the  laws,  of 
tragic  action.  But  the  action  was  represented  by  personages,  about 
whom  at  least  a  little  explanation  is  necessary. 

9.  The  Personages  and  the  Chorus.  —  The  personages,  strictly 
speaking,  are  either  heroes  or  subordinates.  We  have  already  spoken 
of  the  tragic  hero's  costume  ;  naturally  his  language  corresponded  to 
his  appearance.  After  ^schylus,  possibly  sooner,  there  was  a 
special  language  for  tragedy,  probably  varying  somewhat  with  the 
different  poets,  but  always  having  certain  common  characteristics. 
Tragic  personages  spoke  ordinarily  in  iambic  trimeter,  as  this 
seemed  to  resemble  most  closely  the  language  of  everyday  life. 
But  the  resemblance  remained,  on  the  whole,  somewhat  distant,  and 
the  use  of  rhythm  gave  to  tragic  conversation  a  pronounced  ideal 
character.  The  attempt  was  never  made  in  Greece  to  write  prose 
drama.  In  the  passages  that  demande^-'^eater  vivacity,  trochaic 
tetrameter  was  sometimes  used,  which  was  the  metre  of  primitive 
tragedy.  But  this  was  rare.  Doubtless  the  metre  was  not  well 
adapted  to  the  nobility  looked  for  in  the  heroes.  The  basis  of  the 
language  was  naturally  the  contemporary  speech  of  Attica.  From 
this  it  obtained  its  force  and  naturalness.  But  with  the  ordinary 
expressions  were  mingled  poetic  ones  borrowed  by  the  poet  from 
epic  or  lyric  language  or  coined  by  his  imagination.  The  art  lay 
in  combining  the  various  elements  so  as  to  suit  the  exigencies  of  the 
moment  and  the  personage,  and  give  the  impression  of  reality  and 
of  the  necessary  idealization.  The  dialogue  does  not  seem  to  have 
been  subjected  to  strict  rules.  But  here,  as  elsewhere,  Greek  art 
was  marked  by  symmetry.  It  is  not  rare  that  the  speeches  of  differ- 
ent personages  should  be  quite  alike  in  construction  for  a  certain 
distance.  When  the  movement  becomes  very  rapid,  the  symmetry, 
instead  of  being  lost,  as  one  might  expect,  is  heightened.  There  are 
some  parts  of  the  dialogue  called  stichomythia,  in  which  each  person- 
age in  turn  speaks  two  verses,  or  a  single  verse,  or  half  a  verse,  or 
still  less.  The  groups  or  the  fractions  of  verses  correspond  exactly. 
These  various  artifices  permitted  variation  in  the  movement  of  the 
drama,  and  the  translation,  in  a  way,  of  tlie  rhytlim  of  sentiment  into 
that  of  dialogue.  Finally,  the  heroic  personages  passed  quite  often 
from  simple  declamation  to  chant ;  and  this  transition  marked  a 
still  higher  degree  of  patlios.  Among  the  chants  of  the  heroes,  those 
that   became  most  important  as  the  play  of  passion  became  freer, 


Origin  and  Formation  of  Tragedy  181 

were  naturally  the  monodies ;  for  in  them  the  talent  of  the  actors 
could  fittingly  display  itself. 

In  addition  to  the  heroes,  subordinates  figured  in  the  drama. 
Those  most  employed  were  t]ie.-mefififiiigers_  (ayycXot),  who  came  to 
relate  events  that  had  taken  place  behind  the  scene.  Their  narra- 
tives, nearly  always  strongly  pathetic,  were  almost  necessary  ele- 
ments of  a  drama  that  purposely  avoided  tumultuous  spectacles. 
As  a  rule,  these  are  impersonal  passages,  in  which  the  poet  displays 
all  his  talent,  without  troubling  himself  much  about  the  personality 
of  the  speaker.  A  few  subordinate  characters,  however,  have  traits 
really  their  own.  Such  are  particularly  the  pedagogues  and  the 
nurses,  —  humble  confidants,  and  discreet  counsellors,  but  some- 
times also  officious  intermediaries,  who  appear  mechanically  in  the 
tragedy  when  the  action  becomes  too  complex.  Their  language, 
though  not  essentially  different,  is  simpler  than  that  of  the  heroes. 
For  Greek  tragedy  never  employed  a  really  popular  dialect,  as  that 
would  have  destroyed  the  harmony  of , the  whole. 

Side  by  side  with  the  personages  proper  is  found  the  chorus. 
Its  function  in  drama,  though  preponderant  at  the  beginning,  con- 
stantly diminished  in  importance.  Till  the  end  of  the  fifth  century, 
however,  the  chorus  continued  to  be  interested  in  the  action,  or  at  least 
in  the  sentiment  which  that  action  inspires.  If  it  did  less  and  less 
acting,  it  did  not  cease  to  give  counsel,  express  its  opinions  on  pass- 
ing events,  and  convey,  in  the  language  of  emotion  and  in  chants, 
the  impressions  it  had  of  those  events.  In  general,  it  took  the  part 
of  some  of  the  heroes.  But  strictly  speaking,  each  of  the  great 
tragic  writers  conceived  its  role  in  his  own  way  ;  and  every  general 
formula  would  be  inexact.  If  it  took  part  sometimes  in  the  dia- 
logue, speaking  by  the  mouth  of  its  coryphaeus,  yet  one  may  say 
that  its  ordinary  means  of  utterance  was  in  song.  We  cannot  enter 
here  into  the  detailed  forms  of  tragic  choral  odes,  as  they  are 
extremely  varied.^  But  the  choral  lyric  of  tragedy  is  distinguished 
from  the  ordinary  choral  lyric  essentially  by  its  freedom.  Designed 
to  express  im})assioned  sentiment  and  imitate  real  life,  it  could  not 
be  limited  to  the  forms  prescribed  for  lyric  poetry.  Its  metrical 
conii)osition  changes  from  strophe  to  strophe,  and  it  prefers  the 
metres  that  are  most  flexible  and  lively.  Dochmiac  and  logaoedic 
rhythms  are  its  favorites.  The  language  of  the  lyric  passages  is 
substantially  Attic  like  that  of  the  dialogues,  but  with  a  slight 
mixture  of  Doric  forms,  designed  to  give  the  ode  more  gravity. 
Naturally,  then,  the  ode  admits  a  freedom  of  poetic  license,  a  bold- 

1  Consult:  r.  Masqueray,  Theorie  des  formes  lyriqucs  de  la  tra<iedic  grccque, 
Paris,  1895. 


182  Greek  Literature 

ness  of  invention,  a  choice  of  words,  which  dialogue,  more  closely 
resembling  ordinary  life,  cannot  endure. 

This  sketch  may  give  an  idea  of  what  Greek  tragedy  is  as  a 
type,  and  help  to  an  understanding  of  the  powers  possessed  by  its 
action.  One  sees  that  it  resembles  both  our  opera  and  our  classic 
tragedy.  We  must  now  pass,  however,  from  this  general  and  rather 
abstract  description  to  a  more  concrete  study  of  the  works  of  those 
great  poets  by  whom  tragedy  was  formed,  or  produced,  in  its  per- 
fection. 


CHAPTER   XI 

^SCHYLUS 

1.  Personality  of  ^schylus  :  his  Genius.  2.  His  Work.  His  Relations  to  Epic 
Poetry.  Structure  of  the  Tetralogy.  3.  His  Extant  Plays.  4.  Inventions 
of  yEschylus.  His  Conception  of  the  Drama.  Religious  Sentiment  of  his 
Plays.  5.  Other  Inventions  of  .(Eschylus.  Growth  of  the  I^ramatic  Ele- 
ment. Nature  of  the  Action.  6.  The  Sentiments  and  Characters.  "Free- 
dom of  the  Will."  Relation  of  the  Personages  with  one  Another.  7.  Lyric 
Passages  in  JEschylus  :  his  Language.    8.  Bequest  of  jEschylus  to  Tragedy, 

1.    The  Personality  of  .ffischylus:  his  Genius.^  —  At  the  end  of  the 

sixth  century,  after  Thespis  and  in  the  time  of  his  immediate  suc- 
cessors, tragedy  was  established  as  a  distinct  literary  type:  it  had 
become  a  part  of  literature.  But  it  was  still  a  somewhat  humble 
type.  Its  latent  forces  needed  development;  beauty  of  spectacle 
and  grandeur  of  dramatic  effect  were  needed  to  supply  the  majesty 
it  lacked,  and  it  wanted  philosophy  to  furnish  it  with  material  for 
reflection.  This  was  the  work  of  ^schylus,  and  it  was  so  impor- 
tant that  he  may  be  considered  as  the  father  of  this  type  of  i 
literature. 

^schylus,  son  of  Euphorion,  was  born  at  Eleusis  in  525  or 
524  B.C.,  and  belonged  to  a  Eupatrid  family.  We  know  only  some 
of  the  incidents  of  his  life.  According  to  Suidas,  he  took  part  in  a 
tragic  contest  in  the  70th  Olympiad  (500-497).  He  was  at  that 
time  between  twenty-five  and  thirty  years  of  age.  Then  came  the 
great  national  crisis  of  the  Persian  Wars,  ^schylus  fought  as  a 
hoplite  at  Marathon  in  490  with  the  men  of  his  tribe.  He  mentions 
the  glorious  deed  in  his  epitaph.  It  is  probable  that  he  took  an 
active  part  in  the  second  Persian  War,  at  Salamis,  Platsea^i^nd 
Artemisium.  On  these  points  we  have  only  rare  and  untrustworthy 
evidences.  As  for  the  heroic  deeds  attributed  to  his  brothers, 
Cynaegirus  and  Aminias,  it  is  impossible  to-day  to  discern  between 
legend  and  history.  After  the  J^ersian  Wars,  he  seems  to  have 
divided  his  time  between  Athens  and  Sicily,  whither  he  was  called 

1  Chief  Bior.nAPUiCAi.  SofRCEs :  The  anonymous  Life;  Suidas,  s.v. 
khxv^o'i ;  various  notices  in  ancieiit  authors. 

Consult :  Pauly-Wissowa,  Jiealcncyclnpdific,  article  Aeschylos,  for  a  detailed 

bibliography. 

183 


184  Greek  Literature 

by  the  favor  of  Hiero,  king  of  Syracuse.  Victor  for  the  first  time 
in  the  contest  of  484,  according  to  the  chronicle  of  Pares,  he 
brought  out  the  Women  of  uEtna  in  Sicily  soon  after  476,  the 
Persians  at  Athens  in  472  and  at  Syracuse  a  little  later.  In  4G8 
he  competed  against  the  young  Sophocles,  who,  however,  obtained 
the  prize.  He  brought  out  the  Seve7i  against  Thebes  at  Athens  in 
467;  and  the  Oresteia  (Agamemnon,  Cho'ephoroi,  Eumenides)  in  the 
same  city  in  458.  The  dates  of  his  other  plays  can  be  established 
only  by  conjecture  and  approximately.  On  the  whole,  his  life  seems 
to  have  been  entirely  devoted  to  his  art.  As  poet  and  actor,  he 
passed  the  best  part  of  his  life  in  composing  plays  which  he,  or 
other  persons  for  him,  represented  at  the  dramatic  contests. 

Various  accounts,  though  scarcely  credible,  were  current  in  an- 
tiquity, which  attributed  his  voyage  to  Sicily  either  to  a  sentence 
of  exile  passed  against  him,  or  to  the  mortification  he  felt  at  seeing 
his  competitors  preferred  to  himself.  These  accounts,  however,  are 
all  based  on  insufficient  evidence,  and  the  known  facts  scarcely  per- 
mit us  to  believe  them.  If  ^schylus  really  had  trouble  with  other 
citizens,  he  never  ceased  to  take  part  in  tragic  contests  at  Athens ; 
and  the  series  of  his  successes  continued  to  the  end  of  his  life.  The 
anonymous  biographer  assigns  to  him  thirteen  victories,  which  rep- 
resent probably  a  total  of  fifty-two  prize  plays.  He  belonged  by 
birth  and  sentiment  to  the  aristocracy,  and  must  have  seen  with 
displeasure  the  progress  of  the  democracy ;  but  the  reserve  of 
certain  allusions  in  the  Oresteia,  and  the  success  it  obtained,  show 
that  he  never  came  into  conflict  with  the  majority  of  the  citizens. 
Hence,  after  his  victory  in  458,  he  returned  to  Sicily  of  his  own  free 
will,  not  from  mortification.  He  died  at  Gela  in  457  or  456. 
-"■  Judging  from  his  works  and  a  few  scattered  notices,  we  must 
think  of  him  as  pjgud,  higj|^,fuj-ited,  and  imbue^^ith  a  profound 
religious  sentiment.  The  drama,  as  he  conceived-it,  is  full  of  religion. 
His  predominant  gift  was  imagination.  Few  poets  have  created  so 
many  images  and  new  expressions.  His  imagination  tended  to 
gi;^iHleur,  poim^,  and  powerful  or  terrible  display  of  force.  It 
was  not  highly  susceptible  of  grace,  sweetness,  or  delicacy.  It  was 
accompanied  by  a  vigormis  and  subtle  power  of  thought;  a  remark- 
able faculty,  of  reasoning,  connecting  ideas  together,  and  bringing 
them  into  harmony  or  contrast ;  and  a  true  genius  for  organization, 
capable  of  grasping  great  wholes  without  losing  sight  of  the  details. 
Such  a  man,  giving  his  attention  to  a  kind  of  literary  composition 
still  in  its  infancy,  could  not  fail  to  transform  it.  He  had  a  capacity 
for  lx)ld  pictures,  and  lacked  no  quality  essential  for  portraying 
them. 


^schylus  185 

2.  His  Work.  His  Relations  to  Epic  Poetry.  Structure  of  the 
Tetralogy.^  —  A  comparison  of  evidences,  notwithstanding  diver- 
gences that  can  be  brought  into  plausible  harmony,  leads  to  the 
belief  that  he  composed  seventy  tragedies  and  twenty  satyr-dramas. 
Of  this  great  number,  we  have  only  seven  tragedies,  with  a  catalogue 
of  titles  and  a  rather  large  number  of  fragments.  There  were  at- 
tributed to  him  also  some  elegies  and  paeans. 

The  subjects  of  all  his  dramatic  compositions  excepting  the 
Persians  seem  to  have  been  derived  from  epic  poetry.  In  trying 
to  reconstruct  approximately  the  lost  plays  from  the  titles,  frag- 
ments, and  notices  extant,  one  must  build  up  an  ample  series  of 
heroic  scenes  already  treated  by  Homer  and  the  cyclic  poets.  The 
great  tragic  poet  gathered  together,  as  he  says  in  the  account  of 
Atheucxnis,  "  the  crumbs  that  fell  from  Homer's  table."  But  in  so 
doing,  he  merely  followed  the  example  set  by  his  predecessors  from 
the  times  of  the  dithyramb.  However,  the  grandeur  of  his  work 
and  its  extent  made  him  more  like  the  epic  poets.  The  legends 
from  which  he  borrowed  most  are  those  of  the  Trojan  War  and 
of  Thebes  and  Argos,  which  are  precisely  the  ones  made  most 
illustrious  in  epic  song.  We  must  not  forget,  however,  that  these 
epic  legacies  came  to  him  after  passing  through  the  medium  of 
lyric  poetry.  Indeed  we  can  often  discern  the  influence  of  the 
latter  on  his  conceptions ;  and  this  influence  would  appear  more 
plainly  still  if  the  works  of  the  great  lyric  writers  of  the  seventh 
and  sixth  centuries  were  better  known. 

A  certain  number  of  his  plays  were  grouped  into  tetralogies ;  that 
is,  they  were  combined  in  series  of  three  tragedies  (tragic  trilogy) 
and  a  satyr-drama.  Here  is  an  interesting  fact,  that  gives  rise  to 
several  questions  almost  defying  solution. 

We  have  seen  that  from  the  time  of  ^schylus,  it  was  a  rule 
in  dramatic  contests  that  every  poet  competing  at  the  Great  Diouysia 
should  bring  out  one  such  series.  The  usage  continued  through  the 
fifth  century.  But  we  can  neither  assert  that  it  was  in  force  outside 
of  Athens,  nor  say  how  or  when  it  arose.  Besides,  some  series  were 
composed  of  connected  plays,  being  based  on  the  same  general  theme, 
which  they  developed  as  so  many  successive  acts  would  do.  This 
may  be  called  organic  tetralogy,  in  distinction  from  the  loose 
tetralogy    formed    of    independent    plays.      Our   question    here   is 

1  Consult :  Welcker.  Aeschylischo  TrUoftie,  Darmstadt,  1824;  Die  griechi- 
schoi  TragoiUt-n,  Bonn,  1880.  I  ;  G.  Ilennann,  Opiisrula,  vol.  II ;  I'atin,  Etiulcs 
sin-  ha  trugiqucs  grecs,  vol.  I.  sup.  rit.  ;  Wcstphal,  Prolegomena  zu  AeschgJos 
Tragodien,  Leipsic.  18(59;  Weil,  Etudes  sur  le  drnme  antique,  sup.  cit. ;  and 
the  notices  appended  to  the  editions  of  the  fragments  of  vEschylus  as  mentioned 
later  on. 


186  Ch'eek  Literature 

■whether  all  the  plays  of  -^schylus  were  subject,  as  has  sometimes 
been  thought  and  asserted,  to  this  rigorous  mode  of  grouping. 

If  the  figures  given  above  are  correct,  it  is  evident  at  once  that 
they  are  inconsistent  with  the  supposition  of  an  exact  number  of 
tetralogies.  They  indicate  that  ^schylus,  in  any  case,  probably 
composed  at  least  ten  independent  tragedies.  These  may  have  been 
for  representation  outside  of  Athens  or  may  have  belonged  to  a 
period  of  his  life  when  the  rule  in  question  Avas  not  in  force.  A 
large  number  of  plays,  on  the  other  hand,  were  certainly  grouped  in 
threes.  But  did  the  groups  form  organic  trilogies  ?  It  seems  cer- 
tain that  they  did  not;  for  we  know  at  least  one  such,  —  that  includ- 
ing the  Persians,  —  which  could  not  possibly  have  been  an  organic 
group.  However,  it  is  probably  an  exception  ;  and  most  of  the  plays 
must  have  been  united  in  groups  analogous  to  the  Oresteia.  "We  are 
assured  of  this  for  a  certain  number,  and  have  reason  to  believe  it 
true  for  many  others,  because  the  plays  themselves,  in  a  way,  call 
for  such  a  combination.  Whether  the  usage  is  anterior  to  ^schylus 
or  not,  whether  he  created  it  entirely,  or  simply  perfected  and 
made  it  regular,  one  may,  in  any  case,  owing  to  the  extent  to  which 
he  practised  it,  consider  the  usage  characteristic  of  his  work.  The 
amplitude  of  the  trilogy  corresponded  to  the  natural  grandeur  of 
his  thought,  the  tendency  of  his  imagination  to  form  well-arranged 
conceptions,  and  also,  as  we  shall  see,  to  his  philosophy  of  the 
divine  and  human.  Besides,  it  gave  tragedy  something  of  the 
majesty  of  epic,  and  so  was  admirably  adapted  to  his  high  ambition. 

3.  The  Extant  Plays.'  —  The  seven  extant  tragedies,  following  the 
chronological  order  attested  for  five  and  most  probable  for  the  other 
two,  are  these :  the  Suppliants,  whose  date  is  uncertain ;  the  Per- 
sians (472) ;  the  Seven  against  Thebes  (4G7) ;  Prometheus  Bound,  a 
play  doubtless  somewhat  latep  than  the  ])receding;  and  the  group  of 
the  Oresteia  (458),  including  the  Agamemnon,  the  Choi^phora',  and 
the  Eumenides.  The  Suppliants,  a  tragedy  almost  elementary  in 
structure^ in  which  lyric  passages  ])redominate,  must  be  regarded  as 
the  first  })art  of  a  lost  trilogy  connected  with  the  legendary  history 
of  Argos.  In  it  .'Eschylus  represented  the  daughters  of  Danaus  as 
fleeing  from  Libya  and  disembarking  at  Argos  to  escape  the  pursuit 

'  P^DiTiDNs  :  G.  Dindorf,  yEsrliijU  Trrn/mlice.  with  pxcursus,  notes,  and 
scholia,  ;}  vi.i.s.,  Oxford.  1H41-1851  :  Alirens,"  yEsrf,>/U  Tr'iq(e<tirp  H  FrfiiimcDtn. 
PiU-is,  Didnt.  1812;  II.  Weil.  .Esrln/li  7'/v/f/riv//a'.'  Loipsic.  'IVubiHT.  l'8H4  and 
ISlMi ;  Weclih'iii,  yKschiili  Tnrf/O'fliiv.  ct  Friiijmint.ii.  with  the  scholia  of  the 
Mediceus,  3  vols.,  Berlin,  ]S85-i8!»;], — an  important  critical  edition.  The  frag- 
inent.s  are  f,dven  also  in  Nauck.  Trufncornrn  Gra'corum  Frafinifntn,  sup.  cit. 
English  edition  with  notes  by  F.  A.  I'aley,  London,  1887.  English  metrical 
translation  by  Phimptre  ;  and  a  good  prose  translation  by  Lewis  Campbell. 

Iii;x ICONS:   Dindurf,  Lrxiron  AJsrhylcum,  Leipsic.  1870. 
./ 


^schylus  187 

of  their  cousins,  the  sons  of  Egyptus.  The  Persians,  the  only 
historical  tragedy  in  the  collection,  was  brought  out  in  connection 
with  two  independent  plays  on  mythological  themes.  The  drama, 
then,  is  complete  in  itself.  Its  subject  is  the  defeat  of  Xerxes ;  and 
it  is  freely  imitated  from  the  Phoenissce  of  Phrynichus.  Lyric  and 
narrative  passages  still  occupy  the  greater  part  of  the  play.  The 
Seven  against  Thebes  is  the  only  play  extant  of  a  Theban  trilogy,  of 
which  it  formed  the  close.  The  other  two  plays  were  entitled  Laius 
and  G^dijms.  In  the  Seven,  the  poet  represents  the  fratricidal  strife 
between  the  two  sons  of  CEdipus  for  their  father's  heritage.  The 
action,  though  composed  principally  of  narratives  and  descriptions, 
has  real  progressive  movement ;  and  the  principal  personage,  Eteo- 
cles,  is  drawn  in  vigorous  relief.  Prometheus  Bound  is  likewise  one 
play  of  a  trilogy,  which  no  one  has  been  able  with  certainty  to  recon- 
struct. JEschylus  here  shows  the  Titan  Prometheus,  the  benefactor 
of  humanity,  as  cruelly  punished  by  Zeus  for  his  love  of  mankind. 
The  play  was  followed  by  a  lost  tragedy  entitled  Prometheus  Un- 
bound, in  which  Heracles,  after  three  cycles  of  ten  thousand  years, 
put  an  end  to  the  unfortunate  Titan's  torture.  Perhaps  the  trilogy 
was  completed  by  a  third  tragedy,  also  lost,  which,  we  have  reason 
to  believe,  was  the  Prometheus  Pyrphorus  {Fire-bearer).  It  repre- 
sented the  institution  of  the  Prometheus  cult  in  Attica.  The  Prome- 
theus Bound  has  little  action ;  but  it  is  admirable  for  its  beauty  of 
spectacle,  and  the  grandeur  of  the  situation  and  of  the  principal 
personage.  Unlike  the  preceding,  it  seems  to  have  demanded  the 
simultaneous  presence  of  three  actors.  The  Oresteia  is  the  last  work 
of  iEschylus,  and  the  one  that  marks  the  culmination  of  his  art  and 
genius.  The  three  plays  of  tlie  trilogy  treated  the  murder  of  Aga- 
memnon. In  the  first,  entitled  Agamemnon,  the  king  of  IMycenye, 
returning  from  Troy,  is  assassinated  by  his  wife,  Clytemnestra, 
aided  by  her  paramour  ^Egisthus.  In  the  second,  the  Choephorce, 
tlie  action  of  which  takes  place  some  ten  years  later,  Orestes,  the 
son  of  Agamemnon,  having  grown  up  in  exile,  returns  to  his  palace 
in  disguise,  reveals  himself  to  his  sister  Electra,  and,  to  accomplish 
the  bidding  of  Apollo,  avenges  his  father  by  killing  /Egisthus  and  his 
own  mother,  Clytemnestra.  In  the  third,  the  Eumenides,  which  im- 
mediately follows  the  Choephora',  in  tinu;,  Orestes,  pursued  by  the 
Erinnyes  but  protected  by  Apollo,  iiees  from  Delphi  to  Athens. 
There  he  is  tried  by  a  court,  the  Areojiagus,  wliich  on  this  occasion 
Athena  institutes  and  presides  over.  He  is  acquitted;  the  Erinnyes, 
appeased  by  Athena,  become  protectresses  of  Attica  under  their  new 
name  of  Eumenides.  The  three  plays  demand  the  employment  of 
three  actors  in  each.     Though  scarcely  equal  in  force  of  ideas  and 


188  Greek  Literature 

sentiments  to  the  preceding  plays,  they  are  superior  in  dramatic 
execution. 

And  these  are  all  we  have  of  a  truly  great  series  of  plays.  It  is, 
indeed,  very  little ;  and  yet  one  can  glean  from  these  fragments  the 
principal  characteristics  of  his  art. 

4.  Inventions  of  .Sschylus.  His  Conception  of  Drama.  His  Re- 
ligious Sentiment.^  —  /Eschylui^  was  engaged  from  the  first  in  enrich- 
ing tragedy ;  for  he  wished  it  to  have  an  imposing  pomp  even  in  the 
actual  representation.  He  improved  the  masks,  probably  to  give 
them  more  expression.  He  dressed  his  actors  in  sumptuous  costume. 
He  was  perhaps  the  first  to  have  them  put  on  sandals  with  thick 
soles,  that  they  might  appear  taller.  If  painted  scenery  was  not 
used,  as  is  probable,  till  the  end  of  his  life  or  till  after  his  time,  yet 
it  is  certain  that  he  took  pleasure  in  magnificent  spectacles.  He 
loved  to  astonish  the  beholder's  eyes  at  the  same  time  that  he  sur- 
prised his  mind.  In  the  Siqiplkints,  the  Persians,  the  Seven,  and  the 
Agamemnon,  kings  and  queens  appear,  making  pompous  entrees, 
sometimes  on  chariots,  always  in  rich  costume,  and  surrounded  by  a 
numerous  train  of  attendants.  In  the  Prometheus,  one  beholds  a 
mass  of  rocks  in  the  midst  of  a  desert;  thither  came  the  Oceauides 
on  a  winged  chariot ;  the  god  Oceanus  appeared  on  the  back  of  a 
griffin,  which  was  represented  as  bearing  him  through  space.  One 
beheld  the  Titan's  punishment,  and  finally  the  collapse  of  the  moun- 
tain to  wliich  he  was  boinid,  and  its  disappearance.  All  this  was 
effected  with  rather  simple  machinery;  but  the  eff^ect,  on  an  audi- 
ence none  too  critical,  must  have  been  great.  The  appearance  of  the 
Erinnyes  in  the  last  play  of  the  Oresteia,  their  passage  across  the 
orchestra,  and  their  weird  dances,  left  behind  them  a  memory  of 
something  terrible,  which,  indeed,  the  legend  may  have  exaggerated 
later;  but  the  existence  of  such  a  legend  certainly  proves  the  vivid- 
ness of  the  first  impression. 

And  all  this  was  no  empty  spectacle.  The  outward  ])omp  served 
but  to  express  the  grandeur  of  the  conception.  .Eschylus  was  not  con- 
tent, like  his  predecessors,  with  putting  heroic  legends  into  dramatie 
form;  he  wished  them  to  appear  as  so  many  revelations  of  the  will 
of  tlie  gods.  I'eing  naturally  meditative,  he  instinctively  sought  for 
tlie  mysterious  causes  anterior  to  the  events.  His  drama  was  always 
constructed  so  as,  if  not  to  explain  these  causes,  which  would  often 
have  been  to  minimize  them,  at  least  to  make  their  ])resence  felt  and 
inspire  the  needful  awe.     This  Avas   probably  his  chief  innovation. 

'  Consult :  Patin.  />->•  Trtit/ii/nis  (/rocs,  I  ;  .J.  Girard.  Le  Sentiment  reU(iieuy ; 
Weil,  Lp  Draiiir  <tnti(/>tc:  Westplial.  proiegoiueiia,  sup.  cit.  ;  and  Kichter,  Zur 
Dramntnrijie  den  Afsc/ojlos,  Leipsic,  1H92. 


uEschyhis 


189 


Religious  sentiment  had  not  been  wanting  in  his  predecessors ; 
there  was  no  lyric  form  entirely  devoid  of  it,  and  least  of  all  the 
dithyramb:  but  what  had  been  rare  and  scattered,  as  it  were,  he 
gathered  together  and  concentrated  into  the  powerful  unity  of  his 
dramas,  and  set  it  in  relief  by  the  foi'ce  of  his  genius.  Every 
trilogy,  every  tragedy,  was  the  dramatic  setting  forth  of  some  gi-eat 
work  of  destiny ;  and,  thus  conceived,  it  henceforth  awoke  men's 
thoughts  as  well  as  their  emotions.  ---- 

^schylus  is  not  properly  a  philosopher,  as  has  sometimes  been 
said,  with  exaggeration,  nor  even  a  theologian.  A  poet  above  all,  and 
a  dramatist,  he  always  sees  causes  concealed  beneath  the  living  forms. 
He  does  not  separate  them  from  their  effects  in  human  suffering  and 
the  events  of  life.  He  does  not  realize  them  in  abstract  formulas 
capable  of  logical  union,  and  of  producing,  by  their  combinations,  a 
complete  theory  of  the  universe;  of  all  this,  on  the  contrary,  he  has 
only  an  intuition,  a  profound  sentiment.  He  never  seeks  even  to 
take  away  its  obscurity.  This  mysterious  obscurity  is  a  necessary 
element  of  the  supernatural  vision  which  imposed  itself  on  him  and' 
with  which  he  made  his  public  acquainted.  To  show  that  beyond  \ 
visible  things,  there  are  distant,  impressive  causes  not  at  once  visible  ; 
that  human  action  does  not  have  in  itself  its  whole  justification  nor 
its  whole  explanation ;  that  it  obeys  unconsciously  an  unknown, 
higher  power ;  and  that,  after  its  excitement  and  illusions,  the 
human  soul  often  attains  ends  that  it  has  not  sought,  —  this  consti- 
tutes his  inspiration ;  this  is  what  he  deems  the  true  function  of 
dramatic  art. 

Just  what  is  it  that  he  objectifies  into  this  superhuman  realm  ? 
Is  it  some  blind  destiny?  Or  is  it  a  just,  beneficent  will?  It  is 
quite  doubtful  whether  he  himself  could  have  replied  definitely  to 
such  a  question.  His  beliefs  were  probably  the  same  as  those  of  his 
contemporaries  —  a  mixture  of  ideas  gradually  superimj^osed  on  one 
another,  not  always  capable  of  reconciliation.  It  seems  that,  at  bot- 
tom, one  may  find  a  more  or  less  confused  idea  of  force,  blind  and 
irresistible,  a  necessity  controlling  things,  avayK-q.  But  it  is  certain 
also  that,  if  this  is  his  idea,  it  is,  as  it  were,  relegated  to  the  back- 
ground. It  is  manifested  principally  in  certain  unalterable  laws, 
sucli  as  heredity,  the  transmission  of  curses,  the  force  of  malediction, 
the  role  of  the  Erinnyes.  In  Prometheus,  it  is  true,  we  see  Zeus 
himself  subordinated  to  a  fatality  from  which  he  cannot  escape;  but 
the  case  is  an  exception.  On  the  whole,  what  ^schylus  aims  to 
show  is  the  will  of  the  gods,  well-pondered,  reasonable,  clear  in  its 
purposes,  and,  in  short,  aiming  at  good.  But  this  is-  father  a  tendency 
than  a  clearly  defined  aim.     It  must  neither  be  exaggerated  nor  left 


^  Vcrd 


190  Greek  Literature 

out  of  account.  What  must  be  said  above  all  is  that,  in  such  prob- 
lems, the  solution  signifies  less  for  the  poet  than  does  the  problem 
itself.  The  latter  is  an  intrinsic  part  of  the  drama ;  the  solution  is 
beyond  the  drama,  entering  in  only  through  the  curiosity  to  under- 
stand it  which  it  excites. 

5.  Other  Inventions  of  iEschylus.  Growth  of  the  Dramatic  Ele- 
ment. Nature  of  the  Action.  —  By  the  introduction  of  such  religious 
views,  he  had  given  tragedy  a  wholly  new  character.  At  the  same 
time,  he  renewed  it  in  structure  by  developing  the  dramatic  element. 
"His  innovations  in  this  respect  may  be  summed  up  by  saying  that 
;  he  limited  the  part  taken  by  the  chorus  in  the  action,  and  introduced 
:  the  second  actor.     The  two  facts  had  important  consequences. 

In  the  Suppliants,  probably  the  oldest  of  his  extant  tragedies,  the 
chorus  plays  the  part  of  the  protagonist.  Its  will  is  the  principal 
spring  of  action ;  our  chief  interest  is  in  its  sufferings,  its  fears,  its 
desires.  Hence  its  chants  have  a  length  that  limits,  to  the  like 
extent,  the  part  of  dialogue.  If  we  extend  them  still  more  in  imagina- 
tion, we  shall  no  doubt  have  a  fairly  exact  idea  of  what  tragedy  was 
before  his  time.  To  see  that  the  chorus,  a  collective  personage,  could 
not  have  the  same  dramatic  value  as  an  individual,  and  in  conse- 
quence to  reduce  its  importance  for  the  sake  of  developing  that  of  the 
individuals,  was,  in  reality,  to  separate  the  drama  from  lyric  poetry. 
It  was  the  merit  of  ^schylus  that  he  did  this.  The  change  was 
really  on  the  point  of  being  brought  about  at  the  time  of  the  Sup- 
pliants. It  is  effected  in  all  the  other  extant  ])lays.  The  lyric  parts, 
indeed,  are  still  very  long,  yet  not  so  long  as  before ;  and  above  all, 
the  chorus  has  ceased  to  be  so  prominent.  Instead  of  a  group,  we 
have  henceforth  isolated  personages,  with  tlieir  own  characteristics, 
leading  in  the  action.  Hence  our  interest  centres  on  certain  superior 
characters,  that  have  fallen  a  prey  to  destiny. 

In  each  of  the  plays  these  dramatic  persons  are  still  far  from 
numerous  ;  yet  there  are  always  several,  and  tliis  gives  occasion  for 
animated  activity.  All  the  extant  tragedies  of  ^schylus,  including 
the  Suj)}diants,  demand  at  least  two  actors  for  their  performance. 
The  J*rometheus  Bound  and  the  Oresteia  demand  three.  A^'schylus, 
therefore,  introduced  the  second  actor  in  the  early  part  of  his  life; 
and  made  use  later  of  the  third,  Avliich  was  introduced  by  Sophocles 
in  408,  or  thereabouts. 

The  drama  of  .Eschylus  always  advances  toward  a  single  event. 
It  permits  only  slight  digressions,  and  then  not  many  of  them, 
few  or  no  sui'prises,  and  no  theatrical  hits.  From  the  first,  one 
dramatic  situation  is  kept  in  view.  This  announces  and  makes  us 
expect  a  definite  event ;  the  play  proceeds  toward  its  goal  along  a 


JSschylus  191 

straight,  continuous  course;  then  the  resolution  comes,  and  ends 
the  action.  Nothing  could  be  less  complicated,  nor  could  anything 
better  justify  Aristotle's  appellation,  ''simple  tragedy."  The  play 
thus  constructed  is  made  up  partly  of  chants,  and  partly  of  narratives 
and  descriptions ;  and  so  admits  a  lyric  and  an  epic  element  which  are 
still  of  great  importance.  Sometimes  the  episodic  scenes  even  add 
to  the  principal  subject,  and  bring  to  it,  so  to  speak,  a  new  tribute  of 
narrations ;  such  is  the  episode  of  lo  in  the  Prometheus  Bound.  But  it 
is  undeniable,  too,  that  in  the  oldest  .^schylean  plays  we  know  of,  the 
dramatic  element  is  predominant ;  and  the  predominance  is  observable 
even  in  the  latest  plays.  The  new  elements  are,  first,  the  dialogue, 
which  brings  out  with  admirable  emphasis  the  phases  of  the  principal 
situation  and  the  emotions  of  the  personages ;  and  secondly,  a  few 
great  scenic  inventions,  which,  owing  to  the  resources  of  the  theatre, 
have  an  imposing  effect  on  the  spectator.  In  the  Agamemnon,  the 
chief  phases  of  the  action  are  admirably  marked,  each  in  turn.  The 
king's  entry  into  his  palace  over  the  purple  rug  placed  on  thegi'ound 
by  Clyiemnestra,  the  delirium  of  Cassandra,  the  cries  uttered  behind 
the  scene,  the  sudden  reappearance  of  the  murderers  covered  Avith 
blood,  and  the  unexpected  sight  of  the  corpses  are  striking  facts, 
that  give  a  series  of  deep,  keen  impressions.  Such  effects  belong 
neither  to  lyric  nor  to  epic  poetry,  but  only  to  the  theatre.  The 
whole  Oresteia  is  full  of  them  ;  and  among  the  earlier  plays,  there  is 
not  one  that  does  not  have  at  least  a  few. 

6.  The  Sentiments  and  the  Characters.  ''Freedom  of  the  "Will." 
Relations  of  the  Personages  with  one  Another.  —  Dramas  thus  con- 
structed scarcely  lend  themselves  to  the  portrayal  of  a  great  variety 
of  sentiment.  The  poet's  psychology  is  simple,  like  the  action  of  his 
plays;  but,  like  that  action,  it  is  strong  and  striking.  In  almost  all 
his  tragedies  the  leading  personage  is  carried  along  by  a  powerful, 
passionate  will,  which  is  manifest  from  the  beginning.  In  general, 
tliis  does  but  little  reasoning;  there  is  no  marked  internal  deliberation, 
such  as  is  exjjressed  in  monologue  or  dialogue.  The  will  is  part  of 
the  personage's  nature,  brings  about  his  situation,  is  one  of  his  deej)- 
est  passions,  is  really  himself,  and  therefore  inflexible.  Such  is  the 
will  of  the  Danaids,  of  Eteocles,  of  Prometheus,  of  Clytemnestra,  and 
of  Orestes.  It  resembles  irresistible  force,  and  has  something  super- 
human in  its  intensity  and  rashness.  It  is  never  in  conflict  with 
itself.  The  personages  often  suffer  for  too  great  resolution  ;  they 
see  its  danger,  difticulties,  and  horror,  but  that  does  not  restrain 
them.  One  must  look  carefully  to  find  in  them  even  a  slight  trace 
of  hesitation.  In  general,  the  motives  which  should  make  them 
shrink  serve  only  to  excite  them  more  and  to  inflame  their  passions. 


192  Greek  Literature 

Warnings  and  restraining  counsels,  when  received,  have  no  effect. 
They  regard  their  ideas  as  inevitable  necessities  that  they  can  but 
follow  out. 

This  haughty  rigidity,  this  total  abandonment  of  the  soul  to  a 
single  passion,  scarcely  permits  us  to  consider  that  the  characters 
are  complete.  Yet  they  are  characters  in  an  ideal  sense,  since  they 
have  individuality.  What  they  have  in  common  is  strong,  abundant 
sentiment.  Herein  the  lyric  principle  shows  its  persistence  in  the 
great  dramatic  figures.  Each  one  is  a  profound  personality,  rich  in 
emotions  and  passions,  sorrows  and  desires,  that  overflow  in  speech, 
and  manifest  themselves  in  prayers,  lamentations,  protests,  proud 
assertions,  or  defiance.  In  the  fundamental  uniformity  of  their 
moral  life,  there  is  a  possibility  for  new  creations  without  limit. 

What  is  the  force  that  drives  them  on  ?  Is  it  free  will  ?  Is  it 
some  higher  power  of  fate  working  in  them  and  substituting  itself 
for  them  ?  The  question  has  often  been  asked,  and  the  answers 
have  been  various.  Perhaps  no  absolute  reply  can  be  given.  There 
are  personages,  such  as  Prometheus,  in  whom  personal  freedom  is 
so  clear  as  to  be  undeniable.  It  is  true  that,  in  the  end,  their  liberty 
seems  to  come  to  results  conforming  with  the  decrees  of  a  higljer 
destiny.  But  if  one  wished  to  scrutinize  matters  from  such  a  point 
of  view,  one  would  touch  upon  the  very  definition  of  free  will,  a 
problem  of  higher  metaphysics  which  ^Eschylus  certainly  never 
wished  to  elucidate  and  probably  never  conceived.  What  he  repre- 
sents in  Prometheus  is  what  all  the  world  calls  moral  liberty ;  and 
we  need  not  go  farther.  The  question  is  more  obscure  in  the  case 
of  Xerxes,  pushed  along  to  ruin  by  the  dizziness  that  the  gods  have 
sent  upon  him;  or  Eteocles,  seized  with  a  delirium  in  which  his 
father's  curse  is  manifest,  and  which  ends  in  fratricide ;  or  Clytem- 
nestra,  accomplishing  upon  the  sun  of  Atreus  the  inherited  curse  of 
his  family  ;  or  Orestes,  sent  in  arms  against  his  mother  by  a  formal 
oracular  response,  and  excited  to  murder  by  divine  terrors.  Are 
all  these  personages  free?  Is  it  a  spectacle  of  human  will  the  poet 
is  deincting?  Or  is  it  only  the  appearance  of  will  —  will  dominated 
by  a  higher  power?  Here  again,  in  order  to  reply  with  truth,  one 
must  reply  without  too  great  precision,  without  caring  for  a  refined 
nicety  foreign  to  the  poet  and  his  contemporaries.  All  these  per- 
sonages do  obey  a  mysterious,  divine  power  that  goes  surely  to  its 
goal.  lUit  there  is  no  conflict,  not  even  real  duality.  The  higher 
power  is  in  agreement  with  their  will,  their  ideas,  their  passions ; 
it  does  not  oppose  nor  stifle  their  ])ersonality,  but  permits  this  to 
act  without  constraint.  All  the  personages,  while  doing  what  des- 
tiny and  the  gods  have  ordained,  do  also  what  they  wish  themselves; 


jEschylus  193 

they  act  after  their  manner,  according  to  their  passions  and  momen- 
tary -wishes.  They  could  not  do  otherwise  without  doing  violence 
to  themselves.  They  are,  therefore,  free  in  the  sense  everywhere 
given  to  the  word,  free  as  we  are  oui-selves,  though  we  obey  the 
eternal  laws  of  the  universe  —  free  by  the  consciousness  they  have 
of  willing  a  certain  act  and  doing  it  in  accordance  with  their  own 
sentiments.  If  there  is  obscurity  in  all  this,  it  belongs,  not  to 
tragedy,  but  to  the  fundamental  conditions  of  life,  and  lies  beneath 
even  reality  itself. 

As  soon  as  there  were  several  personages  acting  in  the  Greek 
theatre,  the  manner  of  harmonizing  or  opposing  them,  and  of  bring- 
ing out  the  character  of  some  by  means  of  others,  necessarily  became 
one  of  the  delicate  functions  of  the  poet's  art.  -:Eschylus,  in  intro- 
ducing the  second  actor,  and  so  multiplying  the  number  of  roles, 
was  compelled  to  pay  much  more  attention  to  this  matter.  Here, 
again,  he  established  commanding  precedents. 

In  the  Suppliants,  the  protagonist,  who  played  successively  the 
parts  of  Danaus  and  Egyptus,  still  had  only  a  secondary  role.  But 
in  the  Persians,  Atossa  is  quite  in  the  first  rank ;  and  from  then  on, 
a  law  of  the  hierarchy  of  roles  was  clearly  defined.  Eteocles  in  the 
Seven,  Prometheus  in  the  tragedy  which  bears  his  name,  Clytem- 
nestra  in  the  Agamemnon,  Orestes  in  the  Choephoroi  and  in  the 
Eumenides,  have  a  dramatic  importance  which  admits  no  equal. 
But  if  they  owe  this  in  the  first  place  to  themselves,  to  the  intensity 
of  their  passions  or  sufferings,  they  owe  it  also  in  part  —  and  this  is 
well  worth  noting  —  to  their  relations  with  the  personages  that  sur- 
round them.  Almost  all  the  roles  of  second  or  third  order  are  con- 
ceived and  arranged,  not  only  to  bring  out  tlie  action,  but  also  in  the 
interest  of  the  principal  role  —  to  make  it  brilliant  and  aid  in  devel- 
oping and  defining  it.  This  truth  is  striking,  and  es])ecially  so 
when  one  studies  the  roles  of  the  chorus  or  of  the  Messenger  in  the 
Seven;  those  of  Hephjestus,  Oceanus,  lo,  and  the  Oceanides  in  the 
Prometheus ;  those  of  Electra  and  the  cluorus  in  the  Cho'ephora: ;  and 
those  of  the  Pythia  and  Apollo  in  the  Eumenides.  I'erhaps  the 
knowledge  of  contrasts,  the  science  of  delicate  harmony  or  opposi- 
tion, has  not  yet  been  fully  evolved;  the  sentiments  in  his  plays 
have  not  sufficient  variety  for  that.  When  we  read  him  to  compare 
him  with  Sophocles,  we  see  that  there  remains  still  much  art  to  be 
developed ;  but  it  is  certain  that  .'Eschylus  at  least  sketched  the 
way,  and  showed,  so  to  sjieak,  wliat  the  art  was  to  become. 

7.    The  Lyric  Passages  of  .ffischylus.     His  Language.^  —  To  these 

1  Consult:  Masqueray,  Theorie,  etc.,  sup.  cit.  ;  Maury,  Dr  Cnntus  in  yE.trhy- 
leis  Tragoediis  Bistributione,  Paris,  1891. 


194  Greek  Literature 

innovations,  there  must  be  added  a  final  one,  not  the  least  in  impor- 

Ltance.     It  is  he,  according  to  the  testimony  of  Aristophanes  {Frogs, 
1. 1004),  who  really  created  a  tragic  style. 

~  This  is  principally  lyric  in  its  origin  and  in  its  essential  charac- 
ter. Hence  it  is  in  lyric  passages  that  it  displays  its  greatest  rich- 
ness. One  must  remember  that  these  passages  have  an  abundance 
and  magnificence  that  were  nearly  lost  in  later  times.  They  are 
compositions,  sometimes  very  extensive,  in  which  the  poet  devotes 
himself  to  combinations  of  rhythm  and  structures  of  symmetry  in  a 
truly  astonishing  architecture  of  strophes.  His  language  is  that 
iwhich  lends  itself  most  readily  to  long  developments.  Its  distinc- 
"tive  traits  are  boldness,  brilliance,  amplitude,  and  dignity.  It  is 
full  of  compound  words  that  strike  the  ear  with  their  resonant 
qualities  and  catch  the  attention  by  their  profusion  of  accumulated 
figures  and  the  terseness  of  their  thought.  Though  equally  subtle 
and  powerful,  the  style  is  often  obscure  when  considered  in  detail ; 
it  is  so  for  us,  and  was  so  for  the  Athenians.  But  complete,  precise 
intelligence  is  not  essential  to  the  effect.  This  dithyrambic  style 
is  like  a  picture  painted  large,  that  must  be  viewed  from  a  distance. 
Sung  by  a  chorus  and  sustained  by  melody,  the  strophes  run  along 
splendidly.  All  is  grand,  mournful,  or  terrible ;  great  thoughts  ap- 
pear vaguely  beneath  numerous  splendid  metaphors,  and  enthusiasm 
creates  in  abundance  new  and  marvellous  expressions.  These  glow- 
ing, majestic  strophes  were  planned  to  dazzle  the  multitude  and  pro- 
duce in  their  minds  a  sort  of  intoxication.  Even  to-day,  though 
the  musical  accompaniment  and  the  melody  are  in  default,  and  dif- 
ficulties have  arisen  through  alterations  of  the  text,  it  is  impossible 
to  read  without  deep  emotion  such  compositions  as  the  song  of  terror 
of  the  Theban  women  in  the  Seven,  the  parodos  of  the  Agamemnon, 
the  lyric  dialogue  of  Cassandra  and  the  chorus  in  the  same  play,  that 
of  Orestes  and  Electra  in  the  Choepliorce,  or  the  song  of  the  Erinnyes 
pursuing  the  parricide  in  the  Enmenides.  No  doubt  many  details 
in  these  passages  escape  or  embarrass  us ;  but  the  effect  of  the  whole 
is  irresistible. 

Tliough  so  admirable  in  lyric  passages,  the  language  of  these 
dramas  is  less  appropriate  to  the  really  dramatic  parts.  Its  uniform- 
ity would  be  ill  adapted  to  represent  the  various  phases  of  life,  even 
if  the  poet  attempted  to  do  this;  but  we  have  seen  that  he  employed 
a  lyric  style  even  in  the  portrayal  of  character.  The  personages 
are  all  lofty  in  sentiment;  and  as  a  matter  of  fact,  his  language 
seems  fit  to  express  exaltation.  The  narrative  passages  and  the 
dialogues  are  stately,  like  the  choral  odes.  Yet  if  the  language  has 
everywhere  the  same  essential  character,  the  lyric  parts  have  much 


uEschylus  195 

more  boldness  and  dithyrambic  pomp  than  the  others.  The  tenden- 
cies elsewhere  are  the  same,  but  more  moderate,  more  in  conformity 
with  general  usage,  more  considerate  of  the  demands  of  clearness. 
While  the  imagination  is  more  reserved,  logic  and  the  connection 
of  ideas  become  more  evident.  If  the  poet  needs  to  disclose  facts, 
his  diction  can  be  modified  to  suit  the  movement  of  the  narrative ; 
and  the  language,  without  ceasing  to  be  dignified,  does  not  aston- 
ish a  public  that  wished,  above  all  else,  to  understand.  If  he  must 
reason,  his  acute,  skilful  dialectic  removes  the  metaphors  when 
necessary  to  bring  out  the  argument.  This  is  evident  chiefly  in 
animated  dialogues,  where  each  verse  is  a  question  or  a  response,  a 
petition  or  a  refusal,  an  attack  or  a  parry.  His  language  at  such 
times  is  short  and  spirited,  terse,  and  singularly  agile,  though  still 
somewhat  formal.  It  is  here  chiefly  that  it  shows  its  dramatic 
aptitudes  and  indicates  how  much  it  must  be  modified  to  be  com- 
pletely suited  to  the  action.  Here  also  it  is  just  to  maintain  for 
^schylus  the  claim  of  priority.  But  in  general,  it  remains  true 
that  his  style  is  lyric  rather  than  dramatic. 

8.  The  Bequest  of  .ffischylus  to  Tragedy.  —  By  way  of  r^sumi  : 
iEschylus  brought  drama  out  of  its  infancy  and  made  it  a  literary 
type  to  which  no  other  ever  became  superior  or,  possibly,  even  equal. 
He  gave  to  it  a  final  structure,  at  least  in  essentials  ;  and  what  is  better 
still,  he  raised  it  in  imagination,  sentiment,  thought,  and  style  to  a 
height  which  his  predecessors  had  not  thought  possible.  In  the  first 
half  of  the  fifth  century  it  became,  owing  to  him,  an  established 
work  of  art ;  for  it  united  beauty  of  spectacle,  simplicity  and  force 
of  conception,  power  of  pathos,  and  grandeur  of  sentiment  and  i(]£a^ 
with  deep  interest  in  problems  relating  to  destiny.  Moreover,  these 
merits  are  not  found  simply  side  by  side,  in  his  work,  but  are  united, 
as  it  were,  and  condensed.  Owing  to  the  concentration  that  belongs 
to  drama,  they  obtained  a  new  power  from  mutually  aiding  each  other. 
The  result  is  something  absolutely  new,  in  which  all  known  forms  of 
composition  are  fused  and  improved.  The  product,  therefore,  makes 
a  profound  impression  on  its  audience.  The  empire  of  the  drama, 
which  is  the  great  literary  fact  of  the  fifth  century,  owed  its  creation 
to  iEschylus. 

Tragedy  as  he  left  it  —  admirable,  strong,  and  simple  —  had 
nothing  more  to  gain  in  majesty  nor  in  power.  But  it  could  improve 
in  truthfulness  to  psychology,  in  variety  of  sentiments  and  ideas,  in 
flexibility  of  movement,  and  in  the  art  of  digressions  and  surprises. 
To  make  it,  on  the  one  hand,  more  lifelike,  and  on  the  other,  stronger  1 
in  pathos  through  more  skilful  handling  of  the  action,  was  the  task 
accomplished  by  his  successors,  Sophocles  and  Euripides. 


CHAPTER   XII 

SOPHOCLES 

1.  The  Man  :  his  Character  and  Genius.    2.  His  Work.     His  Extant  Tragedies. 

3.  His  Innovations  :  Prominence  of  Human  Interest ;  Abandonment  of  the 
Organic  Trilogy ;  the  Third  Actor ;   Resulting  Development  of  the  Action. 

4.  The  Personages.  Ideal  Representation  of  Character.  Limited  Variety 
of  Will  and  Sentiment.  Moral  Tone  of  the  Plays.  5.  The  Chorus  :  its 
R61e.    The  Lyric  Passages.    6.  Sophocles  as  a  Writer.     His  Influence. 

1 .  The  Man  :  his  Character  and  Genius.'  —  There  is  no  contrast  and 
no  very  profound  difference  between  Sophocles  and  ^schylus.  The 
latter  continued  the  work  of  the  former.  He  had  essentially  the  same 
ideas  of  things  divine  and  human,  the  same  sympathy  with  a  heroic 
ideal,  the  same  general  conception  of  drama;  yet  he  modified  the 
work  of  his  predecessor  enough  to  give  it  a  new  aspect.  ^Eschylus 
was  an  old  Athenian  of  the  time  of  the  Persian  Wars ;  Sophocles 
was  a  contemporary  of  Pericles  and  Phidias. 

Porn  at  Colonus,  just  out  of  Athens,  in  497  or  495,  Sophocles,  son 
of  Sophillus,  belonged  to  a  good  family  and  was  carefully  educated. 
From  his  youth,  his  beauty,  good  grace,  and  musical  talent/developed 
under  the  instruction  ofLampros,  ihade  him  a  general  favorite.  In 
480,  at  the  age  of  fifteen  or  seventeen,  he  was  chosen  to  load,  playing 
{Tie  lyre  and  singing,  a  chorus  of  youths  wlio  celebrated  the  victory 
at  Salamis.  His  taste  for  poetry  was  perhaps  early~maiiifest.  He 
was  hardly  twenty-nine,  or  possibly  not  twenty-seven,  wlien  he  won 
the  prize  from  /Eschylus  in  the  dramatic  contest  of  408.  After  that, 
lie  never  ceased  writing  for  the  theatre.  He  })layed,  it  is  said,  some 
of  his  own  roles  when  lie  was  young,  but  later  gave  up  acting.  His 
success  continued  for  sixty -tliree  years,  or  until  his  deatli.  He  won 
twenty  victories  ;  and,  according  to  his  biographers,  never  obtain(>d less 
than  tlie  second  prize  in  any  contest.  No  poet  was  so  constantly  in 
the  enjoyment  of  public  favor  ;  the  taste  of  Athens  found  in  his 
works  the  completest  satisfaction. 

The  clironology  of  his  plays,  unfortunately,  is  so  little  known  as 
scarcely  to  offer  well-determined  dates  from  which  his  literary  career 
can  be  divided  into  periods.     We  are  hardly  better  informed  about 

'  The  anonymous  Life,  in  Westormann,  Vitarnm  Scriptnres,  and  in  most 
editions ;  Suidas,  Lexicon,  s.v.  ^o<f>oK\ij^  ;  Sophoclis  vita  in  Dindorf's  edition. 

190 


Sophocles  197 

his  public  life.  Thougli  devoted  almost  wholly  to  his  art,  he  held 
certain  offices.  Twice  he  was  strategus,  first  in  439,  and  again  later; 
but  the  later  date  is  not  known.  He  was  also  '^XKrjvoTayiia.<i}  And 
he  seems  to  have  performed  public  duties  in  413  and  411,  in  the  ser- 
vice of  the  moderate  party.  "  In  public  afEairs,"  wrote  one  of  his 
contemporaries,  the  poet  Ion,  *'  he  showed  neither  aptitude  nor  un- 
usual activity ;  he  was  a  good  citizen  of  Athens,  and  that  is  all." 
This  means  that,  being  intelligent  and  devoted  to  his  country,  he 
was  always  ready  to  serve  it ;  but  that  he  had  no  ambition,  and  did 
not  enter  into  politics  except  when  necessary.  His  private  life  is 
equally  obscure.  Soon  after  his  death,  Aristophanes  represented 
him  as  a  happy  man,  whose  peaceful  existence  had  never  been  dis- 
turbed. His  gentle,  pleasing  humor  Aristophanes  also  praised ;  and 
his  character,  which  was  called  exempt  from  envy.  However,  his 
biographers  speak  of  strong  passions  that  disturbed  his  quiet  life ;  of 
discord  between  his  sons;  and  even  of  a  judicial  process  that  some  •$  ^  /*>  j  / 

of  them  brought  against  him.     All  these  evidences  are,  hoM'ever,         ~" 

very  untrustworthy.  He  appears  to  have  married  twice.  By  his 
first  wife  he  had  a  son  named  lophon,  who,  like  his  father,  was  a 
tragic  poet,  and  who  achieved  some  success ;  by  his  second,  he  had 
another  son  named  Aristo,  who  perhaps  likewise  wrote  tragedies. 
Aristo,  in  turn,  was  the  father  of  Sophocles  the  younger,  also  a 
tragic  poet.  He  is  said  to  have  brought  out  his  grandfather's 
(Edipus  at  Colonus  a  few  years  after  the  poet's  death. 

Sophocles,  with  his  affable,  amiable  character,  could  not  but  come 
into  relations  of  friendship  at  Athens  with  some  of  the  prominent 
men  of  the  time.  As  strategus,  he  was  the  colleague  of  Pericles. 
He  knew  Herodotus,  and  about  450  addressed  tcTTmF' aTrere'gy7  of 
whichlye "Have  OTT^- verse.  We  are  not  informed  that  he  was  associ- 
ated with  any  of  the  sophists  or  philosophers  of  the  time.  His 
interest  was  rather  in  poetry  and  the  incidents  of  life  than  in  theo- 
ries or  speculative  research.  In  religious  belief,  he  was  apparently 
a  follower  of  tradition  —  religious  without  question,  yet  not  narrow. 
He  pven  held  a  priestly  office. 

Imagination  in  his  work  has  not  the  same  ardor  and  power  as  in 
that  of  ^^schylus  ;  its  force  was  more  moderate,  its  abundance  more 
discreet;  but  it  was  also  more  brilliant,  luminous,  and  capable  of 
sweetness  and  grace.  Every  human  sentiment  had  an  echo  in  his 
heart.  He  easily  conceived  every  form  and  degree  of  passion  —  ten- 
der affection,  delicate,  sublime  devotion,  remorse,  fond  remembrances, 
as  well  as  wrath,  hatred,  and  resentment.     His  character  was  pliant, 

1  [The  'EW-qroTa/j-lai  were  a  board  of  magistrates  whose  duty  it  was  to  collect 
the  tribute  from  the  allied  states.  —  Tr. j 


198  Greek  Literature 

neither  stiff  nor  harsh,  capable  of  sympathizing  with  all  the  aspects 
of  life,  and  of  reproducing  them  in  language.  His  clear  and  vigor- 
ous reason  was  equal  to  the  employment  of  the  best  logic,  always 
free  in  dialectic  and  never  arbitrary.  He  had  a  charming  vivacity, 
a  wide  experience  of  life,  and,  what  is  better,  a  sure  and  prompt  intui- 
tion of  moral  truth,  an  exquisite  appreciation  of  shades  of  difference, 
and  a  natural  delicacy  —  united  to  a  feeling  for  grandeur  and  a 
liking  for  the  ideal.  It  is  remarkable  that  these  endowments,  which 
favored  creative  spontaneity,  should  be  united  with  the  habit  of 
serious  reflection.  Yet  his  poetic  creations  show  eminently  this 
double  character ;  nothing  is  more  natural,  more  free,  more  true  to 
life,  more  carefully  studied,  or  better  combined.  If  the  essential 
character  of  Atticism  is  ease  in  the  quest  for  perfection  and  reserve 
in  the  use  of  force,  there  is  no  more  truly  Attic  genius  than 
his. 

2.  The  Work  of  Sophocles.  His  Extant  Tragedies.^  —  The  number 
of  plays  he  composed  is  not  certainly  attested,  owing  to  considerable 
divergence  in  the  accounts.  One  may  estimate  it  approximately  as 
one  hundred  and  fifteen  or  one  hundred  and  twenty,  partly  trage- 
dies, partly  satyr-dramas.  Besides,  he  was  reputed  to  have  written 
some  elegies,  some  paeans,  and  a  prose  work  on  the  chorus. 

The  tragic  themes  he  treated  do  not  appear  to  have  been  differ- 
ent from  those  of  ^schylus.  They  were  borrowed  wholly  from 
heroic  legends,  particularly  from  those  made  popular  in  epic  poetry. 
A  large  number  of  his  tragedies  developed  subjects  that  were  mere 
portions  of  the  epic  cycle  adapted  for  the  theatre.  The  great 
majority  of  his  plays  are  represented  to-day  only  by  fragments, 
which  generally  do  not  enable  us  even  to  determine  their  structure. 
Seven  have  been  preserved  entire. 

The  three  oldest  are  probably  Antigone,  Electra,  and  Ajax.  It  is 
impossible  to  determine  certainly  their  chronological  order,  or  to  fix 

1  Editions  :  G.  Dindorf,  Sophoclis  Trafjoedioe  et  Fragmenta,  with  excursus, 
notes,  and  scholia,  8  vols.,  Oxford,  1832-1849  ;  Dindorf-Mekler,  Leipsic,  1885  ; 
Benlow  and  Ahrens,  Sophoclis  Tragoedice  et  Fragmenta,  Paris,  Didot,  1842  ; 
Tournier,  Les  Tragedies  de  Sophocle,  with  introduction  and  notes,  Paris, 
Hachette,  2d  ed.,  1877  ;  Schneidewin  and  Nauck,  Sophokles,  with  introduction, 
excursus,  and  notes,  Leipsic,  1849-1878 ;  Blaydes-Paley,  Sophocles,  with  notes 
and  introduction,  London,  1859-1880  ;  Campbell,  Sophocles,  with  notes  and 
introduction,  Oxford,  1879-1881  ;  Wolff-Bellermann,  Sophokles,  with  introduc- 
tion and  critical  and  exegetical  notes,  Leipsic,  Teubner,  3d  ed.,  1885 ;  R.  C. 
Jebb,  Sophocles,  with  introduction,  notes,  and  a  superb  English  translation, 
Cambridge,  1887-1896.  Translations  into  English  verse  by  E.  H.  Plumptre, 
London,  I860  ;  and  Lewis  Campbell,  London,  1883. 

Lexicons:  Ellendt  und  Genthe,  Berlin,  1867-1872  ;  G.  Dindorf,  1871. 

Consult  the  works  of  Welcker,  Patin,  Girard,  sup.  cit.  ;  and  also  K.  F. 
Hermann,  Zur  lii'ihenfolge  der  sophokleischen  Dramen  (in  Zeitschr.  f.  d.  Gym- 
nasialio.,  1853,  p.  866). 


Sophocles  199 

the  date  of  any  one  of  the  three.  The  evidence  accepted  for  placing 
the  Antigone  about  440  is  exceedingly  untrustworthy. 

The  subject  of  the  Antigone  is  the  heroic  devotion  of  the  maid 
who  is  its  leading  character.  She  buries  her  brother  Polynices 
against  the  command  of  her  uncle  Creon,  king  of  Thebes,  and  pays 
for  the  act  of  piety  with  her  life.  The  beauty  of  the  play  results 
chiefly  from  the  young  heroine's  character.  Then,  too,  owing  to  the 
clever  way  in  which  the  action  is  treated,  the  poet  obtained  really 
dramatic  scenes  from  a  very  simple  subject.  It  is  the  only  one  of 
his  tragedies  in  which  no  single  verse  of  the  dialogue  is  divided  be- 
tween two  or  more  personages.  This  fact  is  an  important  indication 
of  the  probable  date  of  the  play. 

The  Electra  is  like  the  Antigone  in  the  character  of  the  leading 
personage  and  of  her  role.  In  both  plays,  the  poet  has  chosen  a 
young  girl  and  has  given  the  two  heroines  the  same  firmness.  The 
subject  is  the  same  as  that  of  the  CJioejyhorce  of  ^schylus,  the  mur- 
der of  Clytemnestra  and  ^gisthus  by  Orestes  and  his  sister  to  avenge 
their  father.  But  in  again  employing  the  subject,  Sophocles  virtu- 
ally renewed  it.  The  leading  role  belongs  no  longer  to  Orestes,  but 
to  Electra.  The  poet  aims  to  interest  us  principally  in  the  depiction 
of  her  sentiments,  and  this  depiction  is  infinitely  more  varied  than  in 
^Eschylus.  The  progress  of  the  action,  too,  is  quite  different.  The 
recognition  between  brother  and  sister,  instead  of  taking  place  in  the 
beginning  of  the  play,  is  reserved  for  the  latter  part.  Thus  the 
suspense  of  Electra  is  prolonged,  and  her  spirit  passes  through  alter- 
nations of  hope  and  despair,  which  make  it  possible  for  her  to  reveal 
her  whole  nature. 

The  subject  of  the  Ajax  is  the  suicide  of  the  hero  of  that  name, 
the  son  of  Telamon,  a  man  dear  to  the  Athenians,  and  the  epony- 
mous hero  of  one  of  their  tribes.  Imitation  of  Homer  is  here  quite 
noticeable :  Ajax  recalls  Hector,  as  his  captive,  Tecinessa,  suggests 
Andromache.  The  action  is  so  managed  that  the  public  shall  feel 
from  the  beginning  his  resolution  to  end  his  life.  But  the  other 
persons  do  not  discern  his  intentions ;  and  we  see  them  passing 
through  phases  of  dread,  supplication,  hope,  and  sorrow,  that  are 
very  touching.  The  hero  himself,  though  not  essentially  changing 
his  sentiments,  yet  passes  through  various  phases,  from  delirium  to 
haughty,  sullen  calm,  mingled  with  hatred  and  remorse.  The  last 
part  of  the  play  is  of  a  larger  horizon,  and  has  a  moral  tendency, 
in  that  Ajax  is  excused  and  even  honored  before  the  Greek  chiefs 
by  his  rival,  Odysseus,  who  obtains  for  him  the  honors  of  burial. 

(Edipus  the  King,  which  apparently  belongs  to  the  middle  of  the 
poet's  literary  career,  must   be  regarded  as  his  masterpiece.      Its 


200  Greek  Literature 

subject  is  borrowed  from  an  (Edipus  of  .^schylus  now  lost;  it  is 
the  revelation  of  the  involuntary  crimes  of  Q^dipus  and  the  terrible 
punishment  he  inflicts  upon  himself.  But  Sophocles  meant  that,  in 
this  drama  where  the  part  of  the  gods  seems  to  be  everything,  the 
will  of  his  hero  should  be  evident  as  the  chief  spring  of  action  and 
the  leading  subject  of  interest.  It  is  (Edipus  who  conducts  the 
inquest  against  himself;  he  goes  from  discovery  to  discovery, 
straight  to  his  doom,  with  a  sort  of  irresistible  rashness.  His  whole 
character  is  displayed  in  a  struggle  against  he  knows  not  what. 
The  design  of  the  play  cannot  be  too  much  admired.  The  action 
progresses  steadily,  even  hastily ;  the  spectator's  anxiety  increases 
from  scene  to  scene,  till,  pushed  to  the  extreme,  it  is  finally  resolved 
into  deep  pity.  The  secondary  characters  are  admirably  grouped 
about  the  protagonist,  and  all  are  natural  and  true  to  life.  Finally, 
among  all  his  choral  odes  those  of  this  play  are  preeminent  for  their 
variety,  lending  themselves  to  the  sympathetic  expression  of  the 
most  diverse  sentiments. 

In  the  Philoctetes,  which  was  presented  in  409,  Sophocles  treated 
and  renewed  a  subject  already  used  by  ^schylus  and  Euripides. 
Odysseus  comes  to  seek  Philoctetes,  who  had  been  abandoned  by  the 
Greeks  in  the  isle  of  Lemnos  ten  years  before,  but  was  designated 
by  an  oracle  as  the  person  able  to  take  Troy.  Odysseus  succeeded 
finally  in  taking  him  away  through  the  supernatural  intervention  of 
Heracles.  The  invention  due  to  Sophocles  is  the  role  of  the  deuter- 
agonist,  Neoptolemus,  whom  Odysseus  tried  to  make  use  of  in 
deceiving  Philoctetes,  but  who,  by  his  natural  uprightness,  hindered 
the  wily  schemes  of  Odysseus,  This  role,  in  itself  charming,  serves 
chiefly  to  emphasize  that  of  the  leading  hero,  giving  him  occasion  to 
appear  in  various  aspects  without,  however,  encroaching  upon  the 
fundamental  constancy  of  his  purposes.  The  choral  odes  are  of 
mediocre  importance.  The  play  is  distinguished  chiefly  by  the 
delicate  art  in  the  dialogue,  and  the  propriety  and  touching  truth  of 
the  sentiments.  All  the  situations  arise  naturally  from  the  char- 
acters ;  and  if  the  tragic  effect  is  on  the  whole  restrained,  the  action 
is  none  the  less  attractive. 

The  (Edipus  at  Colonns  was  produced  under  the  direction  of  his 
grandson  after  the  poet's  death.  The  subject  is  the  poet's  own ;  he 
seems  to  have  obtained  it  from  a  local  legend  of  his  birthplace  under 
the  influence  of  memories  of  his  childhood.  It  is  the  death  of  the 
aged  (Edipus.  who  finally  sees  the  end  of  his  sorrows  in  the  sacred 
grove  of  tlu^  Eumenides  at  Colonus.  He  mysteriously  disapj)ears 
there  beneath  the  earth,  leaving  to  the  country  that  had  received 
him  the  lasting  favor  of  his  protection.     Although  the  play  has  little 


Sophocles  201 

action,  the  poet  rouses  a  lively  interest  by  the  portrayal  of  his  hero's 
character.  His  misfortunes  and  dignity,  his  tender  concern  for  his 
daughters,  his  implacable  hatred  of  Creon  and  of  his  own  son,  his 
gratitude  toward  Theseus,  and  his  faith  in  his  supernatural  destiny, 
gave  him  a  grandeur  sometimes  almost  sublime.  Moreover,  the  scene 
of  the  event,  which  is  Attica,  or  rather  the  banks  of  the  Cephisus 
and  the  region  of  Colonus,  has  a  peculiar  charm,  which  is  felt  both 
in  the  dialogues  and  in  the  choral  odes.  Amiable  grace  is  combined 
with  the  highest  forms  of  patriotic  sentiment. 

The  seventh  of  the  existing  tragedies  of  Sophocles,  the  Trachi- 
ni<e,  is  the  most  dilhcult  to  classify  because  it  is  unlike  any  other. 
It  represents  the  death  of  Heracles,  brought  about  involuntarily  by 
the  anxious  love  of  Deianira.  To  assure  herself  of  his  fidelity,  she 
caused  him  to  put  on  a  tunic  rendered  deadly  by  the  blood  of  Nessus. 
The  play  is  faulty  in  that  it  lacks  a  leading  personage.  Deianira 
is  finely  portrayed.  She  is  true  to  life  and  affecting,  but  has  neither 
strong  will  nor  passion.  She  deceives  herself  in  thinking  that  she 
acts  with  prudence,  and  dies  in  consequence.  Heracles  appears  only 
at  the  end,  and  then  simply  as  a  victim,  without  influencing  the 
action.  The  interest  is  divided  between  these  two  personages,  with- 
out being  fully  centred  in  either. 

This  is  what  remains  of  the  work  of  Sophocles.  Let  us  try  to  get 
an  idea,  from  the  seven  tragedies,  of  the  nature  of  his  art  and 
genius. 

3.  Innovations  of  Sophocles :  Prominence  of  Human  Interest ;  Aban- 
donment of  the  Organic  Trilogy;  the  Third  Actor;  Resulting  Develop- 
ment of  the  Action.  — The  first  thing  necessary  is  to  determine  what 
his  innovations  are.  This  is  not  always  possible  in  matters  of 
detail ;  and  it  will  be  sufficient  here  to  indicate  essentials. 

As  for  the  theatre  itself,  it  is  in  the  time  of  Sophoclies,  accwd- 
ing  to  Aristotle,  that  a  decided  improvement  in  the  decoration  of  the 
scenery  took  place.  The  plays  we  have  just -named  must  all  have 
been  represented  before  a  painted  gpene  showing,'  in  perspective,  sev- 
eral views:  in  the  Antigone,  th«  royal  palace  of  Thebes;  in  the 
Eledra,  that  of  Mycenae  ;  in  the  Ajax,  first  the  hero's  tent,  then  a 
deserted  spot  near  the  camp^j^  in  the  G^Jdij)KS  the  King,  the  palace  of 
(Edipus  ;  in  the  Philoctetes,  the  hero's  grotto  and  its  surroundings; 
in  tlie  (Edipus  at  Colonus,  the  sacred  grove  of  tlie  Eumenides;  and 
in  the  Trachinia'.,  the  dwelling  of  Deianira  at  Trachis.  Excejjt  for 
this  inij)rovenient  in  the  scenery,  the  general  arrangement  of  the 
spectacle  seems  to  have  remained  as  it  was  in  tlie  time  of  /Eschylus; 
only  it  became  still  more  simi)le,  inasmuch  as  Sophocles  rejected  the 
extrinsic  means  sometimes  employed  by  his  predecessor.     He  never 


202  Greek  Literature 

used  either  machinery  or  great  scenic  effects.  The  interest  cen- 
/  tres  more  and  more  in  the  action  itself,  in  the  representation  of 
life. 

While  Sophocles  seemed  to  be  following  established  traditions, 
he  really  conceived  the  representation  in  a  way  peculiar  to  him- 
self. .'Eschylus  considered  dramatic  subjects  chiefly  from  a  reli- 
gious point  of  view  :  it  was  his  function  to  show  prominently  divine 
action  in  everything;  and  if  he  represented  human  sentiment,  it 
was  under  an  aspect  simple,  uniform,  unchanging  in  tendency.  In 
Sophocles,  the  gods,  although  still  the  same  and  equally  powerful,  are 
more  remote  and  less  prominent.  Man  is  less  crushed  by  them, 
though  they  still  lead  him  to  fulfil  their  purposes ;  and  human 
nature,  displayed  more  freely,  offers  a  larger  field  of  moral  action. 

This  fundamental  difference  of  conception,  due  evidently  to  a 
thorough  transformation  of  religious  sentiment  in  Athenian  society, 
appears  in  a  significant  way  in  the  constitution  of  the  drama. 
Sophocles,  according  to  Suidas,  no  longer  composed  organic  trilogy, 
but  only  free  trilogies,  or  groups  of  independent  plays.  Each 
tragedy,  hereafter,  was  complete  and  independent.  The  very 
moment,  in  fact,  that  the  principal  theme  of  the  drama  ceased  to  be 
some  great  divine  volition,  continuing  from  generation  to  generation, 
there  was  no  longer  any  reason  for  connecting  the  plays.  The  repre- 
sentation of  a  finite  purpose  did  not  demand  such  long  developments. 
Moreover,  this  transfer  of  interest  implied  a  search  for  greater 
variety.  The  breaking  up  of  the  organic  trilogy  would  only  contrib- 
ute to  the  desired  effect. 

Each  tragedy,  once  disconnected  from  the  trilogy  as  a  whole, 
became  somewhat  longer;  and  as  the  lyric  element,  at  the  same 
time,  lost  in  importance,  the  dialogue  was  considerably  lengthened. 
In  a  way,  the  introduction  of  the  third  actor  signalized  this  change, 
making  it  easier  to  effect  and  more  profitable.  The  poet  had  new 
resources  at  his  disposal,  permitting  him  to  give  more  variety  to  the 
action.  And,  too,  the  art  of  composing  drama  naturally  became 
more  easy  with  longer  practice.  The  result  was  a  structure  more 
complex,  abounding  more  in  digressions  and  surprises,  a  better 
marked  progress  of  the  action,  and  fidler  concealment  of  the  artifices 
em})]  eyed. 

Though  modified,  the  action  still  remained  very  simple,  as  com- 
pared with  that  of  modern  drama.  Chance  interviews  count  for 
almost  nothing.  The  action  proceeds  chiefly  from  the  play  of  senti- 
ments ;  that  is,  in  short,  from  the  will  of  the  personages,  whether 
these  are  in  harmony  or  in  conflict.  This  in  itself  is  a  principle  of 
simplicity.     It  was    essentially    the    principle   of   ^Eschylus.     But 


Sophocles  203 

Sophocles  employed  a  wider  range  of  sentiments  than  jEschylus; 
the  varied  play  of  his  mind  is  apparent  in  his  dramas.  Then  the 
action,  as  he  conceives  it,  has  for  its  primary  object  that  of  giving 
to  the  personages  occasion  to  appear  in  interesting  situations.  Con- 
sidered in  itself  as  a  series  of  events,  it  sometimes  appears  slow  or 
episodic.  In  the  Antigone,  the  scenes  between  the  two  sisters  hardly 
change  the  situation,  yet  they  show  the  elder  sister's  uncompromis- 
ing heroism.  In  the  Electra,  the  action,  taken  up  at  the  beginning 
with  Orestes  and  his  old  servant,  afterward  remains  in  suspense 
until  the  recognition,  which  comes  almost  as  late  as  the  resolution 
itself ;  but  all  the  intervening  scenes  reveal  the  heroine's  character. 
In  the  Ajax,  the  situation  of  the  initial  scene  continues  almost  un- 
changed to  the  end  ;  but  the  sentiments  and  emotions  are  continually 
diversified  and  renewed.  The  action  of  the  (Edipus  the  King  approaches 
still  closer  to  our  ideal.  That  of  the  Philoctetes  and  the  (Edipus  of 
Colonus  departs  from  it  again  to  assume  a  form  that  may  be  called 
psychological.  The  other  is  really  the  dominant  one  and  charac- 
terizes the  plays.  No  doubt  he  needed,  to  make  a  tragedy,  either  a 
terrible  or  a  lamentable  situation,  together  with  touching  incidents ; 
but  he  tried  only  in  exceptional  cases  to  make  the  situation  change 
rapidly,  or  to  multiply  the  events.  What  he  preferred  above  all  was 
a  rich  fund  of  moral  elements,  furnished  by  the  setting  of  the  sub- 
ject, such  as  contrasts,  shades  of  character,  or  degrees  of  intensity 
of  passion,  which  are  not  superficial  nor  accidental,  but  spring  from 
the  individuality  of  the  character  that  they  reveal. 

4.  The  Personage.  Ideal  Representation  of  Character.  Limited  Va- 
riety of  Will  and  Sentiment.  Moral  Tone  of  the  Plays.  —  The  person- 
ages have,  therefore,  a  dramatic  life  that  commands  admiration,  not 
only  by  great,  striking  impressions,  but  as  material  for  study,  and  as 
increasing  constantly  in  interest  with  closer  observation. 

If  one  considers  them  as  a  group,  they  are  remarkable  for  their 
variety.  Some,  especially  the  protagonists,  are  strong  characters, 
animated  by  ardent  passion  and  sustained  by  a  powerful  will.  But 
these  lofty  natures  are  far  from  being  confused  in  a  single  type :  one 
finds  among  them  full-grown  men,  such  as  Ajax,  King  Qildipus,  and 
Philoctetes ;  old  men  like  the  (Edipus  who  comes  to  die  at  Colonus ; 
and  young  girls  such  as  Antigone  or  Electra.  Each  of  these  cre- 
ations has  its  distinctive  traits.  Other  personages,  of  the  second  or 
third  order,  have  a  very  different  moral  aspect.  The  group  comprises 
young  girls,  timid  or  prudent,  like  Ismene  or  Chrysothemis ;  young 
men,  frank  and  ardent,  like  Hsemon ;  or  generous,  but  undecided, 
like  Neoptolemus ;  mature  men  blindly  carrying  out  their  ideas,  like 
Creon   in   the  Antigone;    clever,  like   Odysseus  in  the  Philoctetes; 


\/ 


204  Greek  Literature 

proud,  harsh,  and  domineering,  like  Menelaus  or  Agamemnon  in  the 
Ajax;  and  violent,  like  Creon  in  the  (Edipus  at  Colonus;  also  old 
men,  either  wise,  or  irascible  like  Tiresias  in  the  (Edipus  the  King  ; 
women  hasty  and  imprudent,  like  locasta;  and  superstitious  com- 
mon people,  in  whom  are  found,  depending  on  the  case  one  chooses, 
artlessness  and  goodness,  prudence  and  devotion,  like  the  guard  in 
the  Antigone,  or  the  old  servant  of  Laius  in  the  CEdipus  the  King.  If 
one  passes  in  review  the  various  characters  found  in  his  dramas,  and 
compares  the  plays  in  this  respect  with  those  of  ^Eschylus,  one  is 
surprised  at  the  diiference  between  the  two  poets.  The  new  tragedy 
is  the  very  image  of  life,  while  the  old  was  merely  a  sketch.  The 
gift  of  representing  living  personages  so  as  to  distinguish  them  by 
characterizing  them  with  their  proper  traits,  is  certainly  the  one  most 
worthy  of  note  in  Sophocles. 

He  excels  further  in  opposing  these  characters  to  one  another. 
The  delicate  art  of  putting  them  in  harmony  or  contrast  is  truly  his 
creation.  In  ^-Eschylus,  this  was  only  elementary ;  Sophocles  applied 
himself  to  bringing  the  art  to  perfection.  Sometimes  the  opposition 
is  fundamental,  between  personages  whose  every  idea  and  passion 
are  in  conflict,  such  as  Antigone  and  Creon,  Electra  and  Clytemnes- 
tra,  Teucer  and  Menelaus,  or  Oedipus  and  Creon  in  the  (Edipus  at 
Colonus.  But  often  also  there  are  semi-contrasts,  adroitly  regulated, 
and  shades  of  difference  between  personages  who  have  a  common 
sentiment  but  who  ditfer  over  a  matter  of  conduct,  such  as  Antigone 
and  Ismene,  Electra  and  Chrysothemis,  Odysseus  and  Neoptolemus. 
Strictly  speaking,  this  phase  of  dramatic  art  is  so  fully  developed 
and  produces  so  many  distinctions  and  degrees  that  it  alone  would 
merit  detailed  study.  It  must  suffice  to  note  here  its  importance. 
Nevertheless,  beneath  the  extreme  variety,  there  are  traits  of  resem- 
blance. The  trait  common  to  all  the  characters  is  a  uniform  asso- 
ciation of  truth  with  proportion  and  with  beauty. 

And  the  characters  are  endowed  with  the  sentiments  of  real  life. 
They  bear  no  trace  of  the  conventional  or  artificial,  nothing  that 
arises  out  of  a  fashion,  nothing  due  to  the  tlieatre.  They  are  literally 
men  like  unto  ourselves.  We  say  to  ourselves,  that,  if  we  were  in 
their  pUice,  we  should  have  the  very  same  feelings  as  they.  Tliey  are 
truly  atft'cting,  since  all  the  emotions  and  passions  of  our  nature 
vibrate  in  their  souls  and  find  sincere  expression  in  their  language. 
These  emotions  and  passions  doubtless  are  suited  particularly  to 
each  one ;  Vnit,  whatever  the  particular  shade  or  turn,  they  come 
from  that  common  source  which  we  find  operating  in  ourselves  — 
from  human  nature.  His  portrayal,  we  say,  is  regulated  by  measure, 
not  meaning  that,  in  his  plays,  all  is  in  restraint,  which  would  be 


Sophocles  205 

contrary  to  the  very  essence  of  drama,  but  that  the  moderation  which 
he  imposed  on  himself  instinctively  belongs  to  life  itself.  He 
gives  to  sentiments  the  strength  that  nature  would  in  like  circum-  ' 
stances  give  them,  but  nothing  more.  What  he  eliminates  is  not 
violence,  when  violence  is  natural,  but  exaggeration  and  emphasis. 
He  has  no  affectation  of  excess,  no  search  for  effect  at  any  price. 
He  eliminates  all  that,  while  not  necessarily  unnatural,  is  still  un- 
worthy of  interest,  all  that  makes  body  predominant  over  mind,  and 
that  offers  to  the  view  only  a  brutal,  coarse  spectacle,  —  anger  that 
has  swollen  to  rage,  sorrow  that  has  developed  into  frenzy,  and  con- 
vulsions and  spasms  of  agony.  His  domain  does  not  properly 
extend  so  far.  It  is  the  soid  that  interests  him;  where  that  ceases  / 
to  be  evident,  there,  he  thinks,  there  is  nothing  worthy  of  his  art  to 
be  found. 

^  It  would  be  an  exaggeration  to  say  that  he  shows  all  the  aspects 
of  the  soul.  What  is  ugly  in  it,  he  leaves  out  of  sight  as  distasteful. 
A  sentiment  must  possess  a  certain  beauty  before  he  undertakes  to 
depict  it.  This  again,  however,  demands  explanation.  He  is  not 
one  of  those  amiable  optimists  who  see  the  good  side  of  everything,  / 
nor  of  those  who  attenuate  the  ugly,  thinking  to  render  it  beautiful. 
Many  of  his  personages  are  unjust,  opinionated,  even  untruthful : 
they  are  no  strangers  to  fear,  jealousy,  anger,  prejudice,  or  hatred. 
They  have  perverse  sentiments,  and  the  poet  is  at  pains  to  disclose 
the  fact;  for  if  they  were  otherwise,  they  would  not  be  men  and 
would  not  interest  us,  or  would  do  so  to  a  less  degree.  It  may  even 
be  said  that  not  one  of  them,  including  the  noblest  and  best,  is  alto-  • 
gether  good.  The  admirable  person  we  know  in  Antigone  is  unjust 
to  Ismene,  her  sister,  and  treats  her  harshly.  The  aged  (Edipus. 
cursing  his  son,  yields  to  a  transport  of  hatred  and  resentment  which 
the  tears  of  his  daughter  at  least,  if  not  his  paternal  sentiment,  ought 
to  restrain  and  temper.  The  characters  go  to  excess,  because  they 
all  have  human  nature  in  them,  and  even  excess  is  part  of  human  * 
nature,  liut  if  he  tends  to  show  the  reverse  of  his  better  creations, 
the  scruple  of  truth  does  not  induce  him  to  display  on  the  stage 
spectacles  of  physical  or  moral  ugliness.  In  the  whole  series  of  his 
tragedies  not  a  single  character  is  wholly  egotistical  and  boasts  out- 
right. In  each  one  there  is  at  least  a  more  or  less  voluntary  illusion  of 
some  quality  worthy  of  commendation.  ^Fost  of  them  are  honest  in 
their  sentiments,  or  even  generous.  Tliose  of  the  first  order  yield 
always  to  a  certain  general  nobility.  Pride,  ujjrightness,  devotion 
to  an  ideal,  sincerity,  self-sacrifice,  and  a  lofty  sentiment  of  duty,  — 
these  he  loves  to  depict;  these,  in  the  end,  are  what  one  finds  promi- 
nent in  his  plays 


206  Greek  Literature 

/  His  idealism,  however,  is  not  rigid  or  strained.  He  is  one  of  the 
1  great  poets  of  the  affections  and  of  human  tenderness.  In  each  of 
his  dramas,  he  sets  forth  the  need  of  affection  at  the  bottom  of  the 
human  heart.  Antigone,  when  she  braves  Creon,  is  all  love  and  pity. 
Electra,  in  the  sombre  meditation  of  the  past  in  which  she  sinks 
her  thought,  has  at  heart  the  adoration  of  her  father.  She  bursts 
into  tears  over  the  urn  of  Orestes ;  she  opens  her  heart  in  infinite 
effusion  when  she  clasps  her  brother  in  her  arms.  Ajax,  stern  Ajax, 
when  he  dies,  grows  tender  over  the  thought  of  his  son,  of  his  coun- 
try beyond  the  sea,  and  of  his  aged  parents.  (Edipus,  overwhelmed 
by  destiny,  finds  solace  in  weeping  with  his  daughters,  embracing 
them,  and  giving  way  to  his  sorrow.  Philoctetes  is  delighted  by  the 
sound  of  his  mother  tongue,  and  pleased  with  the  thought  of  his  old 
friends.  All  the  characters  keep  the  texture  of  their  human  nature 
well,  despite  their  transient  hardships.  They  are  no  more  stoic 
than  rhetorical ;  they  are  men  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  term. 

Thus  there  is  not  less  dramatic  variety  in  each  of  the  tragedies 
than  in  the  group  they  compose  when  brought  together.     But  it  is 
~^    subject  to  restraining  laws ;  and  these  should  be  explained  here. 

No  poet  understood  better  that  Greek  tragedy,  limited  in  the 
number  of  its  actors  and  in  its  extent,  if  it  tried  to  give  equal  im- 
portance to  all  the  characters,  would  fail  to  study  any  one  com- 
pletely. To  avoid  being  superficial  or  weak,  it  resolutely  sacrificed 
the  characters  of  second  or  third  order  to  the  protagonists.  This 
does  not  mean  that  it  made  them  insignificant  or  void  of  character ; 
far  from  it.  We  have  just  seen,  on  the  contrary,  how  true  to  life 
and  how  interesting  most  of  them  are.  But  the  role  they  play  is 
never  sufficient,  nor  sufficiently  independent,  to  permit  their  dis- 
playing their  whole  nature.  One  must  discern  it,  rather  than  know 
it  thoroughly.  They  appear  only  in  the  particular  aspect  necessary 
for  the  action  and  for  bringing  out  the  character  of  the  protagonist. 
Hence  in  them  there  can  never  be  real  variation  of  character.  Gen- 
erally the  variations  are  only  sketched.  Neoptolemus  alone  forms, 
to  a  certain  extent,  an  exception  to  the  rule ;  and  even  in  him,  the 
variations,  however  interesting,  are  not  brought  into  prominence  nor 
dramatized  as  they  would  be  if  he  formed  the  principal  character  of 
the  tragedy. 

It  is,  therefore,  only  among  protagonists  that  we  may  expect  to 
find  internal  conflicts,  great  fluctuations,  or  reconsideration  of  pur- 
poses. But  here  the  poet  appears  to  have  been  restrained  by  a 
scruple  of  a  different  order.  Like  ^schylus,  he  probably  thought 
that  the  first  requisite  of  a  truly  heroic  character  was  that  it  should 
not  contradict  itself.     Constancy  in  important  decisions  and  great, 


Sophocles  207 

chaxacteristic  resolutions  appeared  to  him  the  most  indispensable 
element  in  the  ideals  he  had  conceived.  Accordingly,  his  char- 
acters of  the  first  order  never  waver  in  their  conduct.  Antigone, 
Electra,  Ajax,  CEdipus  the  King,  Philoctetes,  (Edipus  at  Colonus,  all, 
therefore,  continue  from  beginning  to  end  unmoved  either  in  their  pur- 
poses or  in  their  decisions,  unalterable  in  their  fundamental  passion. 
The  very  natural  variety  they  have  is  due  to  their  emotions,  which 
undergo  incessant  modification,  and  to  the  secondary  sentiments 
that  spring  up  around  the  principal  one  —  to  the  finely  graduated 
shades  of  difference  in  the  aspects  of  their  wills.  They  fear  or  hope, 
grow  gentle  or  bold,  pray  or  curse,  restrain  themselves  or  grow 
exasperated,  according  to  circumstance.  But  never  do  they  come  y 
into  conflict  with  themselves,  seriously  doubt  their  judgments,  ■ 
question  themselves  anxiously,  or  reconsider.  Struggles  of  con- 
science or  sorrowful  hesitation,  which  form  the  dramatic  beauty  of 
such  characters  as  Hamlet,  Augustus,  or  Hermione,  will  be  seen  ap-  '■ 
pearing  sometimes  in  Euripides,  but  nowhere  in  Sophocles.  This 
seems  to  be  the  effect  of  a  conception  well  thought  out  which  is 
both  aesthetic  and  moral. 

Yet  these  strong  wills  are  much  more  human  than  in  ^schylus, 
not  only  because  they  are  more  varied  in  tone,  but  also  because  they 
are  more  permeated  with  reason.  The  motives  to  action  are  always 
illuminated  by  the  free,  deliberate  choice  of  the  principal  character, 
and  equally  by  the  contradictions  he  meets  and  the  discussions  in 
which  he  participates.  Hence  the  moral  tone  of  the  plays  is  clearer 
than  in  ^Eschylus.  True,  they  often  end  in  showing  the  futility  of 
human  reason.  Creon  in  the  Antigone,  and  CEdipus  tlie  King  are  fa- 
mous examples  of  what  has  been  called  tragic  irony.     They  ^tyive  to 

act  with  prudence,  they  regnlatp.  their  conductby  plausible  motiveSi_ 
they  act  in  accordance  with  apparently  d&Qigiye~grinciptes~6f  con- 
duct, yet  hasten  ^.n  fViPJT  min  On  p.  would  think  Ijiat  beliThd  the 
theatre  there  is  a  hidden  power,  mocking  men,  seizing  them  in  the 
decoy  of  their  own  reason,  and  leading  them  whither  it  will. 
Doubtless  this  idea  was  not  so  repugnant  to  his  religious  belief  as  to 
our  philosophy.  But,  without  in  the  least  denying  the  irony,  it 
must  not  be  overlooked  that,  owing  to  the  truly  human  character  of 
the  action,  it  has  less  disturbing  harshness  than  sometimes  in  ^ 
^schylus.  (Edipus  is  an  innocent  victim,  but  his  misfortune  does 
not  alter  .his  nobility  of  spirit  nor  his  dignity.  The  poet  has  so 
brought  these  to  light  that  they  coi.  tinue  to  seem  like  an  inalienable 
good.  We  pity  him  profoundly  ana  at  the  same  time  admire  him. 
So,  besides  the  traditional  conception,  which  still  continues^  there 
appears  something  new,  a  human  morality,  founded  on  uprightness 


208  Greek  Literature 

of  purpose,  on  reason  and  conscience,  on  the  immanent  beauty  of  all 
that  is  good.  This  can  be  discerned  already  in  the  (Edipus  the  King, 
and  is  still  more  manifest  in  the  (Edipus  at  Colonus. 

5.  The  Chorus;  its  Role.  The  Lyric  Passages.^  —  The  great 
development  of  dramatic  action  which  characterized  the  work  of 
Sophocles  necessarily  limited  still  more  the  importance  of  the 
chorus.  This  had  been  already  diminished  by  .^schylus.  It  is 
true  that,  far  from  neglecting  the  chorus,  he  endeavored  to  make 
the  best  use  of  it  possible.  He  is  said  to  have  increased  the  num- 
ber of  choreutes  from  twelve  to  fifteen.  Doubtless  he  thus  ob- 
tained effects  in  the  evolutions  of  the  chorus  more  satisfactory  to 
the  eye,  and  also  more  pleasing  chants.  But  it  is  undeniable  that 
the  lyric  passages  have  no  longer  the  amplitude  they  sometimes 
have  in  ^^schylus. 

In  none  of  his  dramas,  however,  does  the  chorus  play  the  active 
part  which  ^schylus  gave  it  in  the  StippUants  and  again,  toward 
the  end  of  his  life,  in  the  Eumenides.  Yet  it  is  just  as  intimately 
connected  with  the  action.  The  poet  always  found  some  natural 
sentiment  in  which  the  chorus  could  take  a  real  interest.  What  he 
most  demanded  of  it  was  ready  impressions  which  would  permit 
mobility  of  treatment.  Lofty  theological  expressions  no  longer 
have  much  place ;  but  from  act  to  act,  the  chorus  expresses  frankly 
and  forcibly  the  feelings  of  the  moment,  the  suggestions  of  the 
situation,  its  fears,  its  hopes,  sometimes  its  admiration,  or,  still  more 
often,  a  restrained  censure  of  what  has  seemed  too  bold.  It  has,  in 
general,  deep  sympathy  with  human  weakness,  joined  with  religious 
apprehension  of  the  jealousy  of  the  gods  ;  and  therefore  the  taste 
for  moderation  is  more  mature.  Thus  it  furnishes  the  poet  an 
excellent  contrast  with  the  temerity  and  rashness  of  the  pro- 
tagonist. 

Considered  jis  a  lyric  poet,  Sophocles  has  equally  great  merit. 
If  he  has  not  the  pomp,  majesty,  or  supernatural  grandeur  of  iEs- 
chylus,  he  has  a  nobility  and  charm  that  are  never  wanting.  Brill- 
iant grace,  easy  movement,  force  and  remarkable  plenitude  of 
thought,  are  at  the  service  of  his  abundant,  yet  reserved,  imagination. 
Dio  ( 'hrysostom,  speaking  of  his  choral  odes,  praises  their  "  enchant- 
ing   suavity    and     grandeur "    (^^Sov^v     davfjuicrTrjV     koI     fxcyaXoTrpiireiav, 

Disc.  LVI).  There  is  no  better  language  to  convey  our  impression. 
We  know  from  the  account  of  Aristophanes  (Pax,  531)  what  pleas- 
ure the  Athenian  people  found  iu  hearing  them.     This  we  can  still 

1  Consult  :  Muff.  Difi  rhnrischr  Tcchnik  dps  Sophokles,  Halle,  1877  ;  O. 
Hpnse,  D^r  Chnr  des  Suphukles,  B.rlin,  1B77  ;  Masqueray.  Theorie,  etc., 
Slip.  rit. 


Sophocles  209 

experience  as  we  read  the  plays,  even  though  they  have  been  de- 
spoiled of  their  melody. 

I  6.  Sophocles  as  a  Writer.  His  Influence.  —  The  deep  charm 
that  he  exercised  over  his  contemporaries  was  due  evidently  to  a 
large  array  of  harmonious  qualities  manifest  in  every  depai'tment  of 
his  art,  and  reflected  in  his  style. 

As  a  writer,  he  seems  to  have  tried  to  attain  the  nobility  of  ^s- 
chylus,  though  softening  and  attenuating  it  to  make  it  more  expres- 
sive of  real  life.  According  to  an  expression  of  his  preserved  by 
Plutarch  {Progress  in  Virtue,  c.  7) ,  he  was  conscious  toward  the 
close  of  his  life  of  steady  improvement  in  this  respect.  It  is  difli- 
cult  for  us  to  judge  of  the  matter,  owing  to  the  small  number  of 
plays  we  possess,  particularly  in  the  absence  of  a  certain  chro- 
nology. But  in  general,  the  characteristic  of  his  talent  as  a  writer  is 
force  associated  with  ease  and  grace.  His  language  is  concise  and 
bold ;  it  gives  words  an  original  meaning  without  doing  them  vio- 
lence, making  them  stronger  in  the  expression  of  thought  and  senti- 
ment. Yet  he  does  not  need,  like  ^Eschylus,  to  depart  from  current 
usage.  Reserved  in  the  use  of  compound  words,  he  is  ever  inventive 
of  figures  and  word-groups.  His  style  is  spirited,  generally  clear  in 
construction,  yet  terse,  almost  exempt  from  formal  rhetoric,  and 
closely  following  the  trend  of  thought.  It  traces  the  progress  of 
the  thought  with  readiness ;  consequently  it  is  free,  though  orderly. 
The  lyric  passages  no  longer  have  the  slight  monotony  met  with  in 
^schylus,  and  are  superior  in  poetic  quality  to  those  of  Euripides, 
which  sometimes  resemble  prose  too  closely.  Combining  naturalness 
with  dignity,  the  style  is  much  varied  in  tone,  now  harsh,  violent, 
and  passionate,  now  appropriate  to  the  lifelike  dialectic  of  the 
drama,  and  now  so  gentle  that  it  seems  to  sigh  in  expressions  of 
sorrow  and  tenderness.  It  is  preeminently  the  style  of  tragedy,  as 
Athens  conceived  it  and  loved  to  have  it  represented. 

His  part  in  the  history  of  Greek  tragedy  may  seem,  when  one  re- 
flects upon  it,  inferior  to  his  genius.  Tlie  great  inventions  consti- 
tuting tragic  drama  had  been  already  realized  and  needed  only  to  be 
perfected.  On  the  other  hand,  his  direct  influence  on  succeeding 
generations  seems  to  have  been  less  than  that  of  Euripides.  This  is 
also  due,  in  part,  to  his  very  merits.  His  tragedy  was  too  harmo- 
nious, and  its  composition  too  perfect,  to  be  easily  imitated;  besides, 
it  was  still  in\bued  with  a  form  of  religion  and  morality  that  was  to 
be  sensibly  modifled.  Hence  he  was  less  imitated  than  Euripides  by 
the  peo])les  who  came  under  the  influence  of  Hellenism,  liut  it 
would  be  a  narrow  manner  of  estimating  his  influence  to  consider  it 
only  from  this  point  of  view.     The  influence  of  a  great  poet  cannot 


210  Greek  Literature 

be  measured  simply  by  the  number  of  imitators  he  may  obtain.  It 
consists  chiefly  in  the  ideals  which  he  calls  into  existence  in  the 
hearts  of  men.  Whoever  comes  near  perfection  in  any  type  of  art 
thereby  makes  himself  one  of  the  masters  of  the  human  mind ;  and, 
if  we  so  judge,  it  must  appear  to  us  that  of  all  the  poets  of  antiquity 
none  has  a  clearer  right  to  be  considered  such  a  master. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

EURIPIDES.     COMPLETE   EVOLUTION  OF  TRAGEDY 

1.  R61e  of  Euripides.  His  Life  and  Character.  His  Genius.  2.  His  Activity. 
The  Extant  Plays.  3.  New  Conception  of  Drama.  Variety  and  Pathos. 
Nature  of  the  Action.  Prologues  and  Resolutions.  4.  His  Characters.  Will 
and  Passion.  Realism  and  Idealism.  Contemporary  Society  in  his  Plays. 
5.  The  Lyric  Passages.  6.  His  Style.  7.  Completion  of  the  Period  of 
Tragedy. 

1.  Role  of   Euripides.    His   Life   and  Character.      His  Genius.*  — 

Younger  than  Sophocles  by  only  fifteen  years,  Euripides  competed 
with  him  for  more  than  half  a  century.  He  died  a  year  earlier  than 
Sophocles,  and  so  was  approximately  of  the  same  generation.  But, 
if  we  judge  by  their  Avorks,  there  would  seem  to  be  a  considerable 
difference  of  time  between  them.  Sophocles  clung  respectfully  to 
tradition  even  in  his  innovations ;  Euripides  followed  it  when  he 
could  not  do  otherwise,  though  all  his  instincts  tended  the  other 
way.  jD-iieligion^jDhilosophyjp  and  art,  he  wj,S-.aii  indepen- 

dent character^whom  ncLJi£reditarY_tinHencies  could  fully  hold  in 


cbec^.  In  his  hands  tragedy  was  modified  even  in  its  essential 
elements.  It  lost  every  trace  of  the  antique  which  till  then  it  had 
preserved,  and  became  more  and  more  modern. 

Born  in  480  at  Salamis,  he  appears  to  have  belonged  neither  to  the 
aristocracy,  like  .^schylus,  nor  to  the  upper  middle  class,  like  Sopho- 
cles. We  are  uninformed  as  to  the  rank  of  his  parents  —  for  we  can- 
not accept  the  statement  of  comedy  on  the  point.  He  was  probably 
not  of  high  origin.  His  ancestors  left  him  no  inheritance  tliat  could 
attach  him  to  the  past.  He  probably  received  the  education  usual  to 
young  Athenians  ;  but  everything  goes  to  show  that  after  he  had 
grown  to  manhood,  he  completed  it  for  himself.  Probably  he  owed 
his  high  intellectual  culture  to  his  reading  and  his  personal  reflec- 
tion, possibly  also  to  frequent  interviews  with  certain  distinguished 
men.  He  is  represented  as  living  a  meditative  life  alone  ;  and  this, 
too,  is  evident  in  all  his  works.     So  it  is  hardly  probable  that  he  had 

1  rKiNcii'AL  Sources:  Five  anonymous  Lives  in  Westermann,  Vitarum 
Scriptures,  and  in  the  leading  editions  of  Euripiiles. 

Consult:  Tlie  article  by  Nauck  in  the  front  of  liis  edition  of  Euripides,  Teub- 
ner  Collection  ;  P.  Decharme,  Euripide  et  V Esprit  de  son  theatre,  Paris,  1893. 

211 


212  Greek  Literature 

any  regular  teachers.  Heraclitus,  Anaxagoras,  aud  Prodicus,  who 
are  cited  as  such,  certainly  exercised  an  influence  over  him  ;  but 
there  is  no  reason  to  believe  that  it  took  the  form  of  oral  transmis- 
sion of  doctrines.  He  made  one  of  the  first  great  collections  of  books 
of  which  there  is  any  record.  It  is  through  books  that  most  of  the 
ideas  of  the  day  must  have  reached  him. 

He  hesitated,  it  is  said,  over  the  choice  of  his  career,  "VVe  read, 
in  the  anonymous  Life,  that  he  first  wished  to  be  an  athlete,  then  a 
painter.  There  is,  however,  nothing  certain  about  the  matter.  He 
seems  to  have  made  his  appearance  at  the  theatre  early.  In  455,  at 
the  age  of  twenty-five,  he  was  given  permission  to  compete  in  the 
tragic  contest  with  a  trilogy  that  included  the  Daughters  of  Pelias ; 
but  he  obtained  only  the  third  prize.  From  455  until  his  death,  in 
406,  he  seldom  failed  to  compete.  The  leading  dates  of  his  dra- 
matic career  are  marked  by  the  Alcestis  (438),  the  Medea  (431),  the 
Hippolytus  Croumed  (428),  the  Troades  (415),  the  Helena  (412),  the 
Orestes  (408),  the  Iphigenia  at  Aulis  and  the  Bacchce,  which  were 
represented  in  405,  a  year  after  his  death.  His  success  was  mediocre 
at  first.  His  first  victory  was  in  440  ;  he  won  only  four  others  in  the 
thirty-four  years  that  followed.  This  proves  that  his  works  at  first 
astonished  the  Athenian  public  and  gained  favor  but  slowly.  He 
did  not  become  thoroughly  popular  and  master  of  public  opinion  till 
after  his  death. 

Owing  to  a  taste  for  study,  a  disdain  of  honors,  or  some  other 
motive,  he  constantly  held  aloof  from  public  affairs.  His  private 
life,  it  is  said,  was  troubled  by  domestic  unhappiness.  At  an  ad- 
vanced age,  he  retired  from  Athens  to  live  with  the  Magnetes; 
then  at  the  court  of  I'ella,  with  Archelaus,  king  of  Macedon,  who 
received  him  with  magnificence.  He  died  there  in  406,  at  the  age  of 
seventy-five,  leaving  three  sons.  The  youngest,  who  bore  his  name, 
was  also  a  poet.  Archelaus  had  a  monument  erected  to  him  in 
Macedon,  in  the  vale  of  Arethusa;  Athens,  deprived  of  his  remains, 
could  only  consecrate  to  him  a  cenotaph,  liut  in  the  next  century 
she  set  up  his  statue  together  with  those  of  .'Kschylus  and  Sopho- 
cles in  the  theatre  of  Dionysus,  which  was  com})leted  under  the  care 
of  the  orator  Lycurgus. 

Inconstant  and  impressionable  by  nature,  endowed  with  instincts 
a)i(l  faculties  sometiines  in  contradiction,  Euripides  has  a  character 
more  difficult  to  summarize  tlian  tliat  of  .'Escliylus  or  Sophocles. 
A  ready,  even  slightly  feminine  sensibility,  full  synijtatliy  with  all 
natural  affection,  the  simplest,  tenderest  gift  of  pathos,  and  withal  a 
charming  inuigination,  full  of  grace,  sweetness,  and  fancy  —  these 
are  the  poet's  essential  gifts.     V>\ii  poetry  alone  was  far  from  en- 


Euripides  213 

grossing  his  attention.  He  had  an  extreme  curiosity  of  mind,  which 
led  him  to  touch  on  all  sorts  of  questions ;  everything  interested  and 
appealed  to  him  —  nature,  society,  humanity.  He  loved  to  interro- 
gate himself  and  others  about  the  most  diverse  problems.  Inde- 
pendent and  easily  influenced,  traditional  answers  rarely  satisfied 
him ;  but  ingenious  views  and  systems  apparently  allured  him. 
His  intelligence  was  ready,  penetrating,  hardy,  even  hasty,  prompt 
to  raise  doubts  and  see  the  weak  side  of  things.  It  is  doubtful 
whether  he  had  enough  vigor  or  firmness  to  form  a  doctrine  of  his 
ideas  or,  in  any  event,  to  adhere  to  such  a  doctrine.  He  was  rather 
a  thinker  than  a  philosopher,  rather  an  investigator  than  a  dogmatist. 
His  incessant  mental  activity  sometimes  took  the  form  of  mere 
sport.  This  is  a  hindrance  to  a  poet.  His  work  at  times  tempo- 
rarily lost  in  seriousness  and  sincerity.  He  had  a  liking  for  paradox, 
for  brilliant,  but  useless,  dissertation,  for  unnecessary  wit.  But  when 
his  finesse  and  clear  insight  were  brought  to  bearVou  the  obscure 
recesses  of  the  human  heart,  they  showed  him  to  be  singularly  well 
informed.  In  short,  though  less  grand  than  ^schylus,  and  less 
harmonious  than  Sophocles,  he  atoned  in  part  for  his  inferiority  by 
the  variety  of  his  merits,  particularly  his  generosity,  the  infinite 
richness  of  his  emotions,  and  the  keenest  sense  of  human  weakness. 
2.  His  Activity.  The  Extant  Plays .^ — The  number  of  plays  attrib- 
uted to  him,  including  tragedies  and  satyr-dramas,  varies  according 
to  accounts  from  seventy-five  to  ninety-two.  Only  nineteen  are  pre- 
served. These  include  a  satyr-drama,  the  Cydoj)s;  and  one  tragedy, 
the  Rhesus,  which  is  certainly  not  his.  He  composed  also  some 
elegiac  or  lyric  poems.  Authorities  cite  particularly  a  dirge  for  the 
Athenians  who  died  in  Sicily  and  a  triumphal  ode  in  honor  of  Alci- 
biades  when  he  was  victor  in  the  Olympic  games.  We  have  only  a 
short  fragment  of  each  of  these  two  compositions.  The  remains  of 
his  lost  tragedies  are  numerous;  many  fragments  are  maxims  or 
short  dissertations  that  have  a  vivid  poetic  and  moral  interest.  But 
they  come   far  short  of  enabling   us  either  to  restore  the   general 

1  Editions:  G.  Dindorf,  Euripidis  Tragcediic  et  Fragvienta,  7  vols.,  with 
excursus,  notes,  and  scholia,  Oxford,  1834-18();!  ;  Kirchhoff,  Euripidis  Fahiilcc, 
.3  vols.,  Berlin,  1807-1868  ;  Fix,  Euripidis  FahuhJe,  with  Latin  translation. 
Paris,  Didot,  1843  ;  11.  Weil,  Sept  Tragedies  d'Enripide,  with  an  introduction 
and  notes,  Paris,  Ilachette,  1878  ;  Nauck,  E^tripidis  Tragcedice.  with  the  frag- 
ments, 3  vols.,  Leipsic,  Teubner,  1st  ed.,  1854.  The  fragments  are  published  in 
the  Didot  collection,  together  with  those  of  the  other  tragic  poets,  by  Wagner 
and  Dubner.  English  edition  with  notes  by  F.  A.  I'aley,  London,  1860-1874. 
Translation  into  English  verse  by  A.  S.  W^ay,  3  vols.,  London  and  New  York, 
1894-1898  ;  Alcestis,  Medea,  Hippolytus,  in  verse,  by  William  C.  Lawton, 
Boston,  1889. 

Consult  the  works  of  Welcker,  Patin,  Weil,  sup.  cit.,  p.  185.  A  sugge.stive 
essay  is  Euripides  the  Rationalist  by  A.  W.  Verrall,  London  and  New  York, 
1895. 


214  Greek  Literature 

structure  of  the  lost  plays  or  even  to  discern  their  subjects  with  cer- 
tainty. The  most  important  ones  come  from  the  tragedies  entitled 
uEolus,  Antiope,  Bellerophon,  Erechtheus,  Phaethon,  and  Philoctetes. 
In  general,  he  appears  to  have  preferred  the  secondary  to  the  great 
events  of  epic,  and  to  have  treated  them  very  freely.  What  chiefly 
determined  his  choice  was  the  pathos  of  the  subject.  -He  sought  for 
situations  as  violent  as  possible,  or  as  rich  as  possible  in  passion  and 
suffering.     Such  are  the  characteristics  of  most  of  the  extant  plays. 

Eight  can  be  referred  to  definite  dates.  They  are,  in  chronolog- 
ical order : — 

The  Alcestis  (438)  was  brought  out  as  a  satyr-drama.  Alces- 
tis,  wife  of  King  Admetus  of  Thessaly,  consents  to  die  in  his  stead, 
and  is  buried ;  but  Heracles,  snatching  her  away  from  Thanatos, 
the  genius  of  death,  restores  her  to  her  husband.  The  role  of  Alces- 
tis is  one  of  the  most  touching  that  Euripides  created.  That  of 
Admetus  sometimes  borders  on  serious  comedy,  as  does  also  that  of 
his  father  Pheres.  Heracles,  as  in  the  satyr-drama,  is  a  hero,  and 
at  the  same  time  a  buffoon.     The  play  requires  only  two  actors. 

The  Medea  (431)  has  for  its  subject  the  vengeance  of  Medea, 
when  abandoned  by  Jason,  who  wishes  to  marry  the  daughter  of  the 
king  of  Corinth.  In  rage  she  causes  the  death  of  her  rival,  and 
then  slays  her  own  children.'  Neophron  of  Sicyon  had  already 
written  a  play  on  the  same  siibject;  but  Euripides  succeeded  better 
in  painting  Medea's  sombre  fury,  her  dissimulation,  the  conflict  in 
her  heart,  and  the  savage  ecstasy  that  triumphs  there  over  her  ma- 
ternal affection.  Nothing  is  more  beautiful  than  the  monologue 
preceding  the  murder. 

',  The  Ilippolytus  Croioied,  'IttttoXvtos  (rTc<^avtas  (428),  is  a  recasting 
of  the  Ilippolytus  Veiled,  the  date  of  which  is  unknown.  Young 
Hippolytus,  son  of  Theseus  and  the  Amazon  Antiope,  is  the  object 
of  the  incestuous  love  of  Phaedra,  his  mother-in-law.  He  rejects  her ; 
and  Phaedra,  overcome  with  shame,  kills  herself.  Theseus,  deceived 
by  a  calumniatory  denunciation  which  she  has  left  behind,  is  con- 
vinced of  the  guilt  of  Hippolytus.  He  drives  him  from  home  with 
curses,  calling  down  on  him  the  wratli  of  Poseidon.  Hippolytus 
perishes ;  but  before  dying,  he  makes  his  father  aware  of  his  inno- 
cence and  pardons  him.  The  role  of  Hippolytus,  which  is  the  first  in 
importance,  has  been  rightly  praised  for  its  somewhat  savage  pride, 
its  ingenuous  ,^'race,  and  its  nobility.  That  of  Phaedra  is  remarkable 
for  the  strengtli  of  its  passion,  for  its  painting  of  a  delirium  which 
deceives  the  inia'^ination  and  deludes  the  will,  for  the  inner  contra- 
dictions of  a  lieart  that  does  and  does  not  wish.  One  only  regrets 
that,  in  reducing  her  to  a  minor  rank,  Euripides  denied  himself  the 


Euripides  215 

means  of  developing  her  character  as  it  deserved.  In  the  first 
Hippolytus,  he  had  represented  it  more  boldly ;  his  boldness  proved 
offensive ;  in  correcting  himself,  he  rejected  a  dramatic  effect  of 
which,  later  on, -Seneca  and  Racine  availed  themselves. 

The  Troades  (415)  is  less  a  tragedy,  strictly  speaking,  than  a 
series  of  pathetic  scenes  of  great  beauty,  in  which  Euripides  has 
grouped  about  the  personage  of  Hecuba  some  of  the  most  touching 
episodes  of  the  day  following  the  capture  of  Troy,  such  as  the  allot- 
ment of  the  captives,  the  delirium  of  Cassandra,  and  the  death  of 
Astyanax. 

The  Helena  (412)  is  based  on  a  singular  theme  that  goes  back  at 
least  as  far  as  the  Palinode  of  Stesichorus.  Helen,  in  Euripides,  was 
transposed  by  Hermes  to  Egypt ;  ^Jlik:6a»  Paris,  being  deceived,  took 
to  Troy  only  her  phantom.  After  the  capture  of  Troy,  Menelaus, 
driven  by  winds  to  the  coast  of  Egypt,  found  there  his  wife,  at  the 
moment  when  the  king  of  the  country,  Theoclymenes,  wished  to 
marry  her.  Menelaus  and  Helen  recognized  each  other,  deceived 
the  king  by  a  ruse,  and  succeeded  finally  in  escaping,  owing  to  the 
intervention  of  the  Dioscuri.  Despite  the  improbability  of  these 
adventures,  the  play  was  interesting  on  account  of  the  charm  of 
Helen's  role. 

The  Orestes  (408)  has  for  its  subject  the  judgment  of  the  parri- 
cide Orestes  by  the  people  of  Argos.  Here  again  the  invention  of 
incidents  is  somewhat  romantic.  There  is  brought  before  us  a  plot 
by  which  Orestes,  Electra,  and  Pylades  become  masters  of  the  palace 
and  force  their  adversaries  to  submit  to  their  conditions.  The  finest 
scenes  are  in  the  beginning,  where  we  see  Orestes  sick,  and  carefully 
attended  by  his  sister  Electra.  We  are  witnesses  of  his  delirium. 
In  the  sequel,  Euripides  almost  plays  the  part  of  a  satiric  poet,  when 
he  represents,  on  the  one  hand,  scenes  of  a  trial  where  the  life  of 
the  accused  is  in  the  hands  of  the  democracy,  and  the  caprice  of  the 
people  may  do  what  it  will ;  and  on  the  other,  the  recklessness  of 
political  characters,  typified  by  Menelaus. 

In  the  Iphigenia  at  Aulis  (405),  Euripides  again  treated  the  legend 
of  the  sacrifice  of  Iphigenia  already  adopted  by  iEschylus  and 
Sophwles.  He  modified  only  the  solution,  supposing  that  the  young 
girl  was  rescued  by  Artemis,  who  ])ut  under  the  sacrificial  knife  a  deer 
in  her  stead.  In  the  dei>iction  of  sentiment,  this  is  one  of  his  finest 
tragedies.  Iphigenia  is  brought  prominently  forward.  She  moves 
the  spectator  deeply  by  her  grace,  filial  devotion,  simplicity,  attach- 
ment to  life,  supplications,  and  heroism.  Uy  her  side  is  Agamemnon, 
sorrowfully  hesitating,  true  to  life  even  in  his  weakness ;  Clytemnes- 
tra,  defiant,  entreating,  angry,  threatening  by  turns;  and  Achilles, 


216  Greek  Literature 

proud,  generous,  ready  to  begin  a  combat,  though  without  hope  of 
success. 

The  Bacchce  (405  also)  treats  the  resistance  of  Pentheus,  king  of 
Thebes,  to  the  establishment  of  the  Dionysiac  cult;  and  also  his 
punishment.  The  dramatic  effect  results  chiefly  from  the  contrast 
between  the  blindness  of  young  Pentheus,  full  of  scorn  for  an  alien 
superstition  which  he  treats  with  madness  and  folly,  and  the  hidden 
power  of  the  god,  which  appears  in  the  mystic  exaltation  of  his 
worshippers,  in  his  haughty,  ironic  serenity,  and  in  the  frightful 
death  of  Pentheus,  who  is  torn  to  pieces  by  the  hands  of  his  own 
mother.  Contrary  to  his  usual  practice,  the  poet  has  adopted  without 
protest  the  spirit  of  an  enthusiastic  devotee,  which  is  the  spirit  of 
his  theme. 

The  other  nine  extant  plays  are  of  uncertain  date,  but  almost  all 
of  them  appear  to  come  from  the  period  of  the  Peloponnesiau  War, 
and  so  from  the  latter  part  of  the  poet's  career. 

The  Andromache  dates  apparently  from  the  beginning  of  this 
period.  We  see  that  Hector's  widow  has  become  the  slave  of  Neop- 
tolemus,  and  has  borne  him  a  son.  In  her  master's  absence,  she  is 
threatened  by  Hermione,  the  real  wife  of  the  son  of  Achilles.  The 
strife  of  the  two  Avomen,  and  the  intervention  of  old  Peleus,  who 
saves  Andi'omache,  f orm  the  subject  of  the  drama.  Notwithstanding 
some  pretty  scenes,  it  must  rank  in  the  second  class  of  the  poet's 
plays. 

The  Hecuba,  probably  from  the  same,  or  almost  the  same,  epoch, 
is  much  superior  in  dramatic  interest.  The  poet  has  here  united  two 
themes :  the  death  of  Polyxena,  who  is  immolated  on  the  tomb  of 
Achilles;  and  the  vengeance  wrought  by  Hecuba  on  Polymestor, 
king  of  Thrace,  the  murderer  of  the  youngest  son  she  bore  to  Priam. 
The  first  part  of  the  play  is  admirable  for  the  pathetic  picture  of  her 
supplications  and  the  heroism  of  Polyxena. 

The  Electra  would  appear  to  belong  to  a  period  earlier  than  that 
of  the  Helena.  Euripides  has  taken  up  the  theme  of  the  Choephorce 
of  .Eschylus  and  the  Electra  of  Sophocles,  though  adding  a  roman- 
tic element.  The  scene  is  transferred  to  the  home  of  a  peasant  in  the 
country,  who  is,  though  in  name  only,  Electra's  husband.  The  poet 
seems,  by  his  choice  of  details,  to  increase  deliberately  the  odious 
elements  already  in  the  legend,  as  if  to  condemn  the  crime  more 
severely  by  its  very  horror,  though  it  is  committed  at  the  command 
of  the  gods. 

The  Heraclidre  manifestly  belongs  to  the  time  of  the  Pelopon- 
nesiau War.  The  poet  recalls  the  debt  of  gratitude  which  Argos 
owed  to  Athens,  because  the  latter  protected  the  children  of  Heracles 


Euripides  217 

against  Eurystheus,  their  persecutor.  Being  dominated  by  a  political 
purpose,  the  play  is  wanting  in  live,  deep  sentiment. 

The  Hercules  Furens  (though  it  might  better  be  called  the  Mad- 
ness of  Heracles)  is  a  rather  confused  tragedy,  which  contains,  however, 
powerful  dramatic  effects.  Heracles,  having  gone  to  Hades,  comes 
back  just  in  time  to  save  his  old  father  and  his  wife  and  children 
from  death  at  the  hands  of  the  usurper  Lycus.  The  latter  has  just 
been  slain,  when  madness  seizes  Heracles,  the  slayer,  who  then  mas- 
sacres his  whole  family  except  his  father,  and  recovers  his  reason 
only  to  learn  the  nature  of  his  unhappy  act. 

The  Siq?pUants  is  a  play  written  for  an  occasion,  and  must  have 
been  composed  about  420.  Its  dramatic  value  is  mediocre.  The 
mothers  of  the  Argive  chiefs  who  fell  before  Thebes  come  to  implore 
the  help  of  Athens  in  getting  possession  of  the  bodies  of  their  sons, 
as  the  conquerors  refuse  to  bury  them.  Theseus  undertakes  to 
maintain  the  sacred  rights  of  the  dead,  defeats  the  Thebans,  and 
pays  the  last  honors  to  the  fallen. 

The  Iphigenia  in  Taurica  must  date  from  the  last  years  of  the 
poet's  life.  It  is  one  of  his  best  tragedies.  Iphigenia,  transported 
to  Taurica  by  Artemis,  and  there  consecrated  to  her  bloody  rites  by 
Thoas,  the  king  of  the  country,  is  on  the  point  of  immolating  her 
brother  Orestes,  whom  an  oracle  has  induced  to  go  to  that  desert 
coast.  They  recognize  each  other  and  succeed  in  escaping  together. 
One  admires  in  the  play  the  adroit  conduct  of  the  action  and  the 
delicate  painting  of  sentiment. 

The  Ion,  whose  date  is  difficult  to  fix  even  approximately,  is  a 
play  of  much  merit.  The  subject  is  the  adoption  of  young  Ion,  son 
of  Apollo  and  Creusa,  by  AcIilous,  king  of  Athens,  who  lias  espoused 
the  latter.  There  is  profound  charm  in  the  part  of  the  young  man 
of  unknown  origin,  devoted  to  the  cult  of  Apollo;  and  the  poet  has 
been  able  to  represent  the  recognition  between  mother  and  son  in  a 
series  of  very  touching  scenes. 

The  Phaiuisste  belongs  to  the  last  part  of  the  poet's  residence  at 
Athens.  It  is  an  ample  composition,  centring  in  the  fratricidal 
strife  between  Eteocles  and  Polynices,  which  was  treated  by  .Eschy- 
lus  in  the  Seven.  Euripides  has  enriched  it  with  various  episodes. 
The  chief  beauty  of  the  play  is  in  the  role  of  locasta  and  the  admi- 
rable narratives  leading  up  to  the  catastrophe. 

Such  are  the  extant  tragedies  of  Euripides.  Tlie  Rhesus,  of 
which  we  shall  speak  later  cm,  is  certainly  not  his.  To  the  tragedies 
must  be  added  a  satyr-drama,  the  Ctjclops,  in  which  he  has  repre- 
sented, with  much  charm  and  piquant  originality,  the  adventure  of 
Odysseus  and  the  Cyclops  as  told  in  the  Ninth  Book  of  the  Odyssey. 


Greek  Literature 

n  addition  to  its  own  merit,  the  drama  is  of  special  interest  in  that 
it  is  the  only  complete  specimen  we  have  of  this  curious  literary  type. 

3.  New  Conception  of  Drama.  Variety  and  Pathos.  Nature  of  the 
Action.  Prologues  and  Solutions.'  —  Euripides  does  not  seem  to  have 
introduced  any  important  feature  into  the  material  organization  of 
tragedy,  nor  into  the  manner  of  its  representation  on  the  stage,  as 
^schylus  and  Sophocles  had  done.  In  this  respect,  traditions  were 
fixed  when  he  began  his  career,  and  probably  he  did  not  try  to  make 
changes.  Nevertheless,  he  modified  very  considerably  the  conception 
of  the  character  of  drama ;  and  that,  too,  perhaps  unintentionally, 
following  the  natural  tendencies  of  his  mind. 

Tragedy  could  not  be  for  him,  as  for  .^schylus,  the  representation, 
from  a  religious  point  of  view,  of  a  great  legendary  event.  He 
may  not  have  repudiated  openly  the  current  ideas  as  to  the  influence 
of  the  gods  in  human  affairs.  Doubtless  he  often  put  into  the 
mouths  of  his  personages,  in  the  course  of  the  action,  the  words  of  a 
free  thinker,  expressive  of  his  own  personal  opinions.  He  might 
even  take  pains  to  call  up  in  the  mind  of  the  spectators  a  secret 
protest  against  the  religious  data  of  the  legend.  But  these  he  really 
was  obliged  to  accept ;  for  they  were  part,  so  to  speak,  of  the  form 
of  composition  that  he  used.  Itjyvas  notj^nJJie-jMxggr^of, anyone  to 
compose,  at  Athens  in  the  fifth  century,  a  tragedy  whollj;uon-reli- 
gious  and  philosophic.  So  Euripides,  even  from  a  religious  pomt  of 
view,  followed  tradition,  except  in  certain  details.  liut^fliei'cjs"^ 
great  difference  between  this  forced  submission  and  the  hearty 
enthusiasm  of  an  /Eschylus  ;  and  it  is  very  clear  that,  with  sucTf  aTcIis^ 
position,  the  poet  could  not  regard  with  pleasure  the  decrees  of 
destiny,  nor  strive  to  make  their  power  manifest.  If  the  gods  were 
very  busy  in  his  theatre  —  if  they  intervened  as  much  or  nioi-e  than 
in  any  other  —  it  cannot  be  denied  that  they  were  often  capricious,  or 
what  is  worse,  insignificant.  In  many  cases  they  serve  only  to  facil- 
itate the  solution;  and  almost  never  does  a  truly  religious  interest 
call  forth  their  action. 

Nor  has  he  conceived  of  tragedy,  like  Sophocles,  as  the  normal 
development  of  a  will  or  a  character  in  a  definite  situation.  Such  a 
fashion  of  treating  logondary  subjects  iin])lios  methodical,  sustained 
reflection,  pains  to  secure  harmony,  the  subordination  of  jiarticular 
incidents  to  the  general  theme:  and  this  was  not  his  nature.  It 
would  almost  certainly  result  in  sacrificing  variet}'  more  or  less  to 
unity ;  and  variety  was  one  of  the  tilings  which  appealed  to  him 
most  strongly. 

^  Consult:  The  works  of  Patiii  and  Decharme.  sup.  cit.;  and  the  essay  of 
H.  Weil,  Sept  Tragcdii-s,  etc.,  sup.  cit. 


Euripides  219 

His  drama  is,  in  fact,  as  varied  as  possible,  considering  the  small 
number  of  actors  and  the  mediocre  resources  of  the  Greek  theatre. 
Instead  of  prolonging  a  situation,  he  prefers  to  modify  it  with 
unexpected  events,  to  diversify  it  with  episodes,  or  to  renew  it  by 
added  incidents.  Almost  always,  when  all  three  use  the  same 
legend  as  a  basis,  the  plays  of  ^Eschylus,  and  still  oftener  those  of 
Sophocles,  are  virtually  included  in  his  first  act.  Those  of  Eurip- 
ides enlarge  and  branch  out  as  scene  succeeds  scene.  ^The  variety 
he  seeks  allows  the  employment  of  many  dramatic  elements.  The 
chief  one  is  pathos ;  in  general,  he  seizes,  in  each  situation,  only  the 
most  affecting  moments.  From  the  beginning  hp  p.mifinps  himsplf  tn 
strong  passion  or  gfrnnpr  gnfFprin^  when  he  has  exhausted  these,  he 
seeks  others.  Hence  certain  of  his  plays,  such  as  the  Hecuba  or  the 
Troades,  really  contain  several  subjects.  In  default  of  passions  or 
sufferings,  he  wishes  to  have  discussions  permitting  him  to  plead 
forlorn  causes.  Discussions  seem  to  delight  him.  Finally,  all  in- 
genious combinations  —  misunderstandings,  meetings  between  per- 
sons each  unaware  of  the  other's  presence,  unexpected  incidents, 
revelations  of  secrets,  recognitions,  in  a  w^ord,  the  whole  list  of  pos- 
sible artifices  —  seem  to  have  held  a  much  more  important  place  in 
his  esteem  than  in  that  of  his  predecessors. 

The  tragedy  thus  produced  is  often  quite  affecting.  It  surprises 
and  it  captivates.  But  the  vivid  impressions  it  produces  conceal 
but  imperfectly,  one  must  admit,  the  fact  that  it  is  biassed  and 
sometimes  quite  unfair.  Aristotle  remarked  this  inherent  mixture 
of  merits  and  defects,  when  he  said  in  his  Poetics  (c.  13),  "  Although 
Euripides  composes  ill,  he  is  the  most  tragic  of  poets." 

The  structure  of  his  plays,  under  the  influence  of  the  habits  and 
tendencies^jusTTTOted,  presents  some  peculianties.  One  of  the  niost 
important  is  the  employment  of  narrative  prologues,  uttered  byan 
isolated  actor  before  the  play  itself  commences.  This  is  the  most 
rudimentary  form  of  expositionlmaginable ;  It  is  not  found  in  Soph- 
ocles, except  in  the  Trachiniai,  and  never  in  ^schylus.  It  is  almost 
reirular  in  Euripi,des,  and  answers  various  purposes,  now  singly,  now"" 
in  conibinationVMjLiZ^a^w^iy^ 

ojTeiimg  scenes.  When  once'  the  indis])ensable  explanations  are 
gi\jen,TKe~poet  can  proceed  at  once  to  the  touching  elements  of  the 
drama;  and  these  ])reliininary  explanations  are  the"~mbre  liWi^ssaiy- 
as  h^Jj;eats  the  legends  more  freely  and  cojnplicates  the  situations 
^ moreVTTtt  is  also,  a  means  Of  connecting  bct'oreliand  episodes  some- 
wll'ft  ^'"Tf^^Y  boiin^^  tnnrofViPr  p,y  aunounciiig  them  si»H4,Uaneously 
to  the  spectator,  he  givesTliem  an  api)eanince  of  unitvV-J^^bmetimes 
it  is  a  convenient  device  to  notify  the  public  of  a  divine  action  which. 


220  Greek  Literature 

though  necessary  to  the  subject,  the  drama  itself  would  not  lead  one 
I  to  expect.  Another  peculiaritY,  no  less  curious,  is  the  employment  of 
I  the  De}is  ex  'machina  to  close  the  jjlay.  He  has  no  scruple~~abbuf 
I  using  it,  though  it  seems  to  us  rather  crude  and  commonplace,  and 
\  is  never  used  by  ^schylus  and  almost  never  by  Sophocles.  For 
I  him  it  had  the  advantage  of  showing  consequences  of  an  action 
I  which  were  still  concealed  in  the  future,  and  also  of  assigning  to  the 
gods  the  part  that  public  opinion  demanded  —  a  part  that  he  had 
not  always  given  them  in  the  drama  itself.  "Rnt.  ahnvf^  ^11 ,  ViPjip-gg  able 
thus  to  close  his  play  in  the  very  crisis  of  its  pathos,  smce  the  final 
calm  wag  prnrinf^pdhriisq^p'y  unripr  the  influence  of  a  supernatural 


power  enforcing  its  will.     Herein  is  §hown  again  hisfomrhess^foF" 
the  pathetic  scene  which  appealed  to  him  so  strongly,  rather  than 
v^or  the  normal  development  of  sentiments. 

4.  The  Characters.  Will  and  Passion.  Realism  and  Idealism. 
Contemporary  Society  in  his  Plays.  —  From  what  has  been  said,  it  is 
evident  that  one  must  not  demand  from  him  complete  and  methodi- 
cal studies  of  dramatic  psychology.  There  is  scarcely  an  example 
in  all  his  work  of  characters  who  reveal  to  us  in  the  course  of  the 
action  all  their  essential  traits.  The  poet  gives  us  simply  a  few 
views  of  their  moral  nature.  He  shows  them  to  us  in  states  of  vio- 
lent though  temporary  feeling.  We  see  Pha;^dra  a  prey  to  the  pas- 
sion that  destroys  her,  but  scarcely  know,  from  the  few  words  thrown 
out  in  passing,  how  the  passion  grew  up,  what  resistance  her  will 
offered  to  it,  and  what  path  she  followed  amid  her  contrary  senti- 
ments.   "Hjppqlvtiis  has  some  interesting  and  original  traits  ;  but  his 


action,  though  whony"defensive,  does  not  sutti.ce  to  develop  or  coordi- 
nate them^  Hecuba  is  admirable  for  her  maternal  affection~\vhen  she 
is  defending  her  daughter ;  she  is  quite  different,  however,  in  taking 
vengeance  on  Polymestor;  and  then,  it  must  be  owned,  her  savage 
fury  accords  but  ill  with  the  artless  sorrow  that  so  affects  our 
hearts.  Agamemnon  interests  our  curiosity  in  a  very  human  mix- 
ture of  ambition  and  paternal  tenderness,  weakness  and  grandeur. 
But  he  is  simply  sketched;  and  when  the  decisive  crisis  comes  to 
reveal  to  us  his  soul,  he  is  gone.  Young  victims  like  Iphigenia  and 
Polyxena  charii^  us  by  their  grace,  dignity,  and  heroism.  But  the 
poet  does  not  give  us  occasions  enough  to  know  them  so  we  can 
really  learn  their  character.  When  they  go  away  to  death  we 
have  scarcely  seen  them.  Medea^  .n.lmost.  n  1  on p,_  appears  as  an 
exce^jtion.  Still,  it  continues  true  that  the  poet^  has  not  hacfa 
defimteidea  olMier  character.  We  are  not  told  whether  she  still 
hj:S_an_l2Z^"'^^^^i'  ^ov6  for  Jason,  with  the  furious  hatred  that 
she  evinces~Tbward  him ;    and  we  really  find  difficulty  in  under- 


Euripides  221 

standing  how  one  so  forlorn  as  she  can  take  thought  forpersonal 
security.  ~~~" 


Xhe  truth  is  that  Euripides  interests  us  less  in  well-considered 
(jiSgi&iqns  than  in  instinctive  sentiment  and  passion.  What  he  painl^ 
by  choice  and  paints  well  is  the  hidden  forces  thaF'act  half  uncon- 
sciously within  us.  His  great  types  of  amorous  women  gave  offence 
j_n  the  Athenian  theatre.  Never  were  the  mysterious  workings  of 
human  nature  so  boldly  unveiled.  Jj\  Pha^dlia^nd  Medea,  irresist- 
ible forces  seem  to  arise  from  thn  depths  of  th"'  p^yVll  iT-nd  moral 
ngiure  —  forces  that  will  and  reason  disavow,  ydL  tigainot  which  they 
struggle  feebly.  It  is  not  merely  passion  that,  with  him,  is  so  in- 
stinctive^ but  also  affection,  sentiment,  and  even  heroism.  A  deed 
of  heroism  is  never  anticipated,  as  in  Sophocles,  long  beforehand; 
it  does  not  result  from  fully  comprehended  principles,  from  laws 
imposed  by  the  conscience  of  the  character ;  but  it  is  done  suddenly, 
when  circumstances  make  it  necessary ;  and  sometimes  in  conse- 
quence, the  character  does  not  seem  as  real  as  might  be  desired. 

These  reflections  help  us  to  understand  the  importance  given  to 
young  persons  and  to  women.  A  painter  by  instinct,  he  was 
naturally  attached  rather  to  impulsive  natures  than  to  those  in  whom, 
as  a  rule,  moral  force  is  supposed  to  be  predominant.  In  the  deli- 
cate representation  of  ingenuous  character,  he  had  no  predecessor; 
nor  has  he  ever  been  surpassed. 

His  real  manner  consists  in  a  charming  and  very  affecting 
mixture  of  realism  and  idealism.  Notwithstanding  tradition,  and 
without  fear  of  disturbing  tragic  dignity,  he  ventured  to  direct 
attention  to  the  details  of  real  life,  which  an  art  more  regardful  of 
the  majestic  would  have  designedly  passed  by.  Sometimes,  indeed, 
he  has  chanced  to  fall  into  the  commonplace.  Aristophanes  re- 
proached him  with  seeking  to  move  his  public  by  coarse  means, 
and  displaying  before  it  the  material  accompaniments  of  misery  and 
suffering,  such  as  rags,  infirmities,  and  the  outward  marks  of  age. 
The  criticism  is  justified  by  more  than  one  detail  in  the  extant  plays; 
but  it  would  be  quite  unjust  to  exaggerate  its  importance.  When 
the  poet  has  a  humble  servant,  in  Alcestis,  describe  the  queen's  last 
moments  as  she  runs  to  and  fro  in  lier  house,  touching  familiar  ob- 
jects for  the  last  time,  weeping  over  her  nuptial  couch,  then  tenderly 
addressing  her  children  and  saying  a  few  words  to  each  of  her 
servants,  it  is  realism,  without  doubt,  yet  excellent.  He  does  show  us 
petty  things  and  familiar  details  ;  but  they  are  the  most  natural  means 
for  expressing  noble  sentiment  here,  and  accordingly  his  novel  real- 
ism is  at  the  service  of  an  exquisite  idealism. 

Sometimes,  taking  quite  another  form,  the  tendency  turns  more 


222  Greek  Literature 

or  less  to  satire ;  and  in  this  aspect,  perhaps  it  is  more  open  to  cen- 
sure as  an  element  of  tragedy,  but  it  is  at  least  singularly  interest- 
ing. Euripides  attacks  especially  the  faults  of  women.  No  one  in 
the  theatre  has  criticised  them  oftener  or  more  sharply,  though  it 
must  be  acknowledged  that  he  is  far  from  being  always  right  in  do- 
ing so.  His  contemporaries  attributed  to  him  an  implacable  hatred 
of  women.  They  certainly  mistook  his  true  sentiments.  We  have 
just  seen  that,  though  criticising  them  sharply,  he  also  portrayed 
their  virtues.  Furthermore,  his  satire  was  not  exercised  uniquely 
against  them.  Like  all  impressionable  natures,  he  had  a  keen  sense 
of  the  wicked  and  the  ridiculous,  and  did  not  check  the  pleasure  he 
took  in  giving  vent  to  his  humor  with  the  means  at  his  disposal. 
His  plays  offer,  besides  great  ideal  figures,  many  personages  that  are 
egotistic,  lax,  basely  ambitious,  harsh,  and  perfidious.  The  vices  which 
Sophocles  concealed,  or  covered  with  an  envelope  of  passion,  Euripides 
frankly  displayed ;  so  that  those  who  possess  them  often  profess  the 
fact.  A  sort  of  crude  frankness  is  not  rare  on  their  part.  When 
they  do  not  themselves  avow  the  passions,  other  personages  bring 
them  to  light.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  this  is  lifelike  painting 
of  contemporary  society.  The  development  of  the  democracy,  the 
fierce  strife  between  individual  interests,  perhaps  also  the  influence 
of  the  sophists,  had  sensibly  altered  the  ancient  ideal  of  aristocratic, 
traditional  dignity.  Politicians,  orators,  demagogues,  ambitious  per- 
sons without  honor,  had  risen  in  multitudes.  Less  and  less  respect 
was  paid  to  loyalty,  the  bonds  of  friendship  or  family  affection,  and 
the  delicate  shades  of  certain  particularly  fragile  virtues,  such  as 
gratitude.  This  is  just  the  state  of  things  he  brings  out  in  almost 
all  his  plays.  Thus  treated,  tragedy  often  approaches  the  more  seri- 
ous types  of  comedy  —  those  which  seek  less  to  produce  a  laugh  than 
to  show 'defects  or  caprices.  And  under  his  influence,  such  comedy 
was  in  tlie  course  of  the  next  century  to  become  current  in  Greece. 
5.  The  Lyric  Passages.^  —  There  is  no  cause  for  dwelling  on  the 
lyric  passages  of  tragedy  thus  transformed.  The  chants  of  the  cho- 
rus tended  more  and  more  to  separate  themselves  from  tlie  action. 
Proljably  the  poet  still  tried  to  attach  them  by  a  sensible  tie ;  but 
it  is  evident  that  he  shows  more  artiiice  than  sincerity.  These 
chants  do  not  arise  out  of  the  theme  of  the  dialogue;  tliey  are  not 
ins{)ir('(l  1)y  great  emotions  which  tlie  action  has  produced;  and  tliey 
no  longer  seek  to  disengage,  so  to  speak,  the  truths  of  religious  and 
moral  plnloso])hy.  Very  often  they  are  mere  fantasies  relative  to 
the  action.      Hence,  in  general,  it  must  be  owned  tliat   they  lack 

^  Consult,  in  addition  to  the  work.s  already  noticed  in  this  chapter,  that  of 
Masqueray,  Thturic,  etc.,  sup.  cit. 


Euripides  223 

grandeur  and  force,  and  scarcely  contribute  to  the  effects  of  terror 
and  pity  proper  to  tragedy.  Yet,  with  this  reservation,  there  is 
reason  for  praising  their  grace,  their  varied  charm,  and  their  exquis- 
ite imagery.  A  love  of  nature  is  often  mingled  in  them  with  dis- 
creet emotion,  and  the  effect  produced  is  delightful.  Let  us  cite,  at 
least,  as  a  single  example,  the  pretty  ode  of  the  Helena,  where  young 
Greek  girls  are  describing  the  sea  calmed  for  the  return  of  Menelaus, 
and  then  imagine  themselves  flying  through  space  like  birds  of  pas- 
sage returning  to  their  mother  country  (^Helena,  1451)  :  — 

"  0  Phoenician  vessel,  light  bark  of  Sidon,  with  thy  lovely  oars 
make  the  waves  of  Nereus  rustle.  Lead  the  gay  chorus  of  dolphins, 
when  no  breeze  disturbs  the  surface  of  the  sea,  Avhen  the  child  of 
Pontus,  blue-eyed  Galanea,  says :  '  Spread  your  sails  wide,  abandon- 
ing them  to  the  ocean  breeze ;  and  take  your  oars  of  fir,  sailors,  O 
sailors,  to  bring  back  Helen  to  a  hospitable  shore,  to  the  land  of  the 
sons  of  Perseus.'  Ah !  Through  the  air,  would  we  might  take  our 
flight  like  flocks  of  birds,  fleeing  from  Libya  in  the  season  of  rain. 
They  go,  obeying  the  song  of  the  eldest,  who  guides  them  by  flight 
and  voice  to  plains  that  are  dry  and  fertile.  0  Avinged  band,  long- 
necked,  feathery  rivals  of  the  clouds,  go,  at  the  rising  of  the  Pleiades 
and  of  Orion,  those  groups  so  bright  in  the  darkness,  carry  to  Eurotas 
the  news  that  Menelaus  has  captured  the  city  of  Dardanus,  and  is 
now  returning  home." 

One  feels  here  the  true  character  of  this  poetry,  where  easy, 
graceful  imagination  sports  with  the  details,  accumulating  and  toss- 
ing off  pretty  images  through  a  long  period,  somewhat  playfully,  yet 
nimbly,  imitative  of  the  waves  of  water.  There  are  not  many 
thoughts  beneath  the  undulations,  but  there  is  the  charm  of  clever- 
ness and  of  variety  of  design. 

*Yet  the  poet's  philosophic  turn  is  seen  also  here  and  there  in  his 
choral  chants.  Then  he  comes  in  without  taking  the  trouble  to  dis- 
guise his  personality  and  enunciates  some  of  those  general  thoughts 
of  which  he  is  so  fond,  and  which  give  his  poetry  a  didactic  char- 
acter. He  informs  us  of  his  meditations,  and  of  what  he  has  read 
or  observed :  and  this,  coming  from  the  lips  of  old  men  or  women, 
whom  he  uses  as  his  interpreters,  only  causes  surprise.  Put  it  does 
not  hinder  such  passages,  considered  in  themselves,  from  having  a 
dee])ly  impressive,  stately  beauty. 

Besides  the  choral  odes,  his  plays  often  include  as  lyric  passages  a 
large  number  of  chanted  nionologiu^s  or  monodies.  Though  rare  till 
then,  these  are  frequent  in  his  tragedies.  Our  appreciation  of  them 
is,  in  general,  only  imperfect.  Designed  to  give  range  to  the  voice 
or  diction  of  an  actor,  they  depended  mueh  on  the  melody  which 
accompanied  the  words,  and  on  the   action,  for  the  favor  of  their 


224  Greek  Literature 

auditors.  In  these  monodies,  the  poet  performed  functions  like 
those  of  a  song-writer  for  opera,  attaching  little  value  to  the  thought, 
but  concerned  chiefly  with  the  musical  motives  appropriate  to  the 
chant.  Under  such  conditions,  the  words  must  be  regarded  only  as 
suggestions,  that  can  never  be  completed. 

6.  The  Style  of  Euripides.  —  An  innovator  in  almost  all  the  ele- 
ments of  drama,  Euripides  was  no  less  novel  in  the  language  that 
his  characters  spoke,  and  the  novelty  followed  the  same  principles 
and  instincts.  His  characteristic  tendency  was  to  bring  the  language 
of  tragedy  closer  to  that  of  ordinary  life. 

Aristotle  praised  him  (Rhet.  Ill,  2)  because  he  gave  the  public 
the  illusion  that  he  was  speaking  the  language  of  ordinary  society, 
while  really  expressing  himself  in  lofty  diction.  The  illusion  was 
produced  chiefly  by  his  manner  of  arranging  the  elements  borrowed 
from  familiar  speech.  There  are  in  his  works  fewer  poetic  terms 
mingled  with  the  words  of  common  usage  than  in  Sophocles.  Marjis 
accedit  oratorio  generi,  says  Quintilian  (X,  1,  68).  But  the  difference 
between  him  and  Sophocles  is  due  less  to  the  choice  of  words  than  to  the 
use  made  of  them.  If  his  expressions  have  not  the  same  plenitude 
and  brilliance,  they  express  more  clearly  and  distinctly  the  different 
ideas,  presenting  them  in  less  studied  aspects  and  so  being  more 
intelligible.  His  style  pleases  chiefly  on  account  of  its  naturalness 
and  ease ;  although  spirited  and  incisive  when  those  qualities  are 
advantageous,  it  does  not  savor  of  preparation.  Something  familiar, 
artless,  spontaneous,  gives  it  an  exquisite  charm  ;  and  yet  this  agile, 
disconnected  style  is  never  dry.  It  pleases  the  ear  as  much  as  the 
mind.  In  its  simple  flow,  it  has  the  smoothness  which  Aristophanes 
admired  and  strove  to  imitate.^ 

It  was  marvellously  well  adapted  to  the  needs  of  repartee,  so  dear 
to  the  Athenians.  No  one  could  conduct  and  prolong  like  Euripides 
an  exchange  of  ideas  ready,  biting,  precise,  between  two  speakers 
replying  verse  by  verse.  For  condensed  discussion  or  disputation, 
language  must  be  ready  and  vigorous,  very  brief,  and  very  delicate 
and  flexible.  There  must  be  no  embarrassing  hesitations,  no  heavy, 
languishing  phrases.  The  expression  must  always  seem  new,  though 
the  ideas  are  closely  identical ;  the  movement  of  the  sentences  must 
be  brusfjue  to  break  up  a  tedious  argument ;  or  on  the  contrary, 
there  must  V>e  ingenious  combinations  which  suddenly  give  to  tlie 
opponent's  idea  a  meaning  that  is  absurd  or  contrary  to  his  inten- 
tions. 

When  necessary,  the  language,  just  now  incisive,  becomes  singu- 
larly gentle.  It  can  glide  over  things  that  it  must  not  touch.  It 
'  Aristophanes,  fr.  471,  Koch, 


Euripides  225 

has  semi-indications,  turns  and  windings,  suggestive  words,  ingenious 
secondary  meanings,  and  terse  expressions  of  sentiment  that  suddenly 
bring  tears  into  one's  eyes.  It  excels  no  less  in  the  neat  turn  given 
to  universal  truths.  Up  to  the  time  of  Menander,  who  imitated  him, 
Euripides  Avas  the  most  adroit  coiner  of  maxims  that  Greece  ever 
saw.  In  this  respect,  Quintilian  (X,  1,  68)  judged  him  equal  to  the 
sages  of  the  sixth  century,  whose  reflections,  authentic  or  not,  were 
gradually  developed  into  a  fund  of  wise,  sententious  morality.  But 
between  them  and  him  there  is  great  difference.  Not  only  can  he 
enunciate  with  brevity  and  skill  those  general  truths  whose  merit 
is  in  mere  elegant  expression ;  but  almost  always,  in  doing  so, 
he  bestows  upon  them  an  accent  of  his  own  that  doubles  their 
value. 

The  influence  of  the  forensic  then  in  process  of  development  was 
exercised  on  his  language  and  even  on  the  invention  of  certain  scenes 
in  his  dramas.  AVe  have  seen  how  fond  he  was  of  making  his  per- 
sonages plead  in  formal  speeches.  They  pleaded  so  well  that  masters 
of  the  art  of  expression  recommended  them  as  models.*  In  such  scenes 
are  displayed  the  dialectic  elements  of  the  poet's  language.  The 
transitions  are  short,  the  turns  are  varied  and  simple,  and  the  style  is 
never  subject  to  monotonous  regularity.  Generally  short,  yet  not  too 
much  so,  his  sentences  have  gravity  when  he  needs  to  emphasize  an 
assertion,  lightness  for  insinuations,  and  vivacity  when  urgency  of 
situation  needs  to  be  expressed.  Here  and  there,  parentheses  of  two 
or  three  words  thrown  out  in  passing  add  life  and  movement.  An 
accessory  idea,  a  reproach,  a  recollection,  or  a  regret  suddenly  arising, 
mingles  with  the  principal  thought  and  does  not  disturb  it.  Thus 
he  employed  much  realism  and  but  few  artifices  of  rhetoric.  If, 
at  times,  the  latter  became  too  apparent,  they  were  in  general  used 
with  as  much  discretion  as  ease. 

The  defect  of  his  poetic  language  is  that  it  does  not  take  on  strongly 
enough  the  shade  of  sentiment  of  his  characters.  It  is  not  sufficiently 
aristocratic,  in  a  way,  for  heroes  borrowed  from  epic  legend.  It 
makes  them  too  modern,  too  much  like  his  Athenian  contemporaries, 
and  also,  possibly,  too  much  like  one  another.  It  is  a  language  more 
and  more  capable  of  expressing  universal  ideas  or  sentiments,  though 
thereby  ceasing  to  be  sufficiently  characteristic  of  tragedy  and  of  epic 
manners.  This  is  the  reason  why  an  original  comic  poet  like  Aris- 
tophanes imitated  Euripides  even  in  his  lifetime;  and  shows  still 
better  why  the  language  passed  as  a  heritage,  without  essential  modi- 
fication, to  Menander  and  the  poets  of  the  New  Comedy. 

1  Quintilian,  X,  1,  68:  "  Et  dicendo  ac  respoudeudo  cuilibet  eorum  qui 
fuerunt  in  foro  diserti,  comparandus." 


226  Greek  Literature 

7.  Completion  of  the  Period  of  Tragedy.^  —  The  successive  study 
and  comparison  of  the  three  great  tragic  poets  of  the  fifth  century 
has  given  us  a  general  view  of  the  evohition  of  tragedy  in  its  essential 
features.  To  complete  the  study,  a  few  words  are  needed  to  charac- 
terize the  other  poets  who  cultivated  the  type  at  the  same  time  or 
later,  and  to  indicate  in  summary  how  tragedy  finished  its  career  in 
Greece. 

The  number  of  poets  who  took  part  in  the  tragic  competitions  at 
Athens,  seems,  in  the  course  of  the  fifth  century,  to  have  been  great. 
No  other  type  was  then  so  popular  as  tragedy  ;  no  other  assured  the 
victors  so  much  glory  and  profit.  It  is  probable  that  several  of  these 
poets  produced  meritorious  plays.  Certain  of  their  plays  won  prizes 
over  ^Eschylus,  Sophocles,  and  Euripides.  But  the  extant  portions 
consist  only  of  titles  and  fragments,  which  do  not  make  a  literary 
study  possible.  We  can  therefore  give  only  a  hasty  mention  of  some 
few  names. 

In  the  family  of  .Eschylus  we  find  a  whole  line  of  tragic  poets : 
his  son,  Euphorion,  and  his  nephew,  Pliilocles  the  Elder  ;  then  in  the 
second  generation,  Morsimus  and  Melanthius,  sons  of  Philocles  and 
contemporaries  of  Aristophanes.  The  family  was  continued  by 
other  poets  in  the  next  century.  lophon,  son  of  Sophocles,  obtained 
some  successes  toward  the  close  of  his  father's  career.  Outside  of 
these  privileged  houses,  we  must  cite  Ion  of  Chios,  a  lyric  as  well  as 
tragic  poet,  a  historian  also,  and  even  a  philosopher  to  some 
extent ;  Achseus  of  Eretria,  even  more  famous  for  his  satyr-dramas 
than  for  his  tragedies;  the  Arcadian  Aristarchus  of  Tegea;  the 
Sicyouian  Neophron,  whose  Medea  seems  to  have  been  the  model  for 
that  of  Euripides  ;  Moschion,  interesting  for  his  attempts  to  restore 
or  develop  the  historic  tragedy  {Tlieinistocles,  Tlie  Fherceans) ;  Critias, 
one  of  the  tliirty  tyrants  of  Athens;  and  especially  Agatho,  the 
only  one  besides  the  masters  whom  we  have  studied  who  seems  to  have 
shown  real  originality.  All  the  others,  in  fact,  are  said  to  have  re- 
sembled more  or  less  either  Sophocles  or  Euripides,  and  generally  both 
at  once.  Agatho,  born  about  445,  inaugurated,  toward  the  close  of 
the  century,  about  41;"),  a  slightly  different  form  of  tragedy.  A 
pupil  of  the  ])opular  sophists,  elegant  and  affable  in  manners,  he  was 
much  in  vogue  for  a  decade  or  so.  About  405  he  had  already  left 
Athens.  He  is  said  to  have  died,  still  young,  at  l*ella,  in  Macedon, 
not  long  before  the  end  of  the  fifth  century.     The  most  celebrated  of 

'  Editions  :  Tlie  frat^ments  of  the  lesser  tragic  poets  are  in  the  collections 
of  Wagner  and  Nauck,  sup.  cit. 

Consult  :  Welckor,  Griechische  Tragodien,  III  ;  Haigh,  The  Trwjic  Drnma 
of  the  (jrcckri,  sup.  cit. 


Complete  Evolution  of  Trcujedy  227 

his  tragedies  were  the  Destruction  of  Ilium,  and  especially  the  Anthos 
(Flower),  or  the  Antkcea,  in  which,  by  an  exception  very  rare  in  the 
theatre,  both  the  themes  and  the  personages  were  pure  invention. 
His  greatest  innovation  was  that  of  substituting  for  the  old  choral 
odes,  which  were  more  or  less  connected  with  the  action,  musical  pas- 
sages quite  separate  from  it.  They  were  simple  interludes  (ififioXifia) 
which  could  be  transferred  readily  from  one  play  to  another.  As 
for  his  drama,  its  chief  merit  was  elegance  of  style,  in  which,  how- 
ever, fondness  for  research  and  imitation  of  Gorgias  became  rather 
too  noticeable. 

About  the  same  time,  Carcinus,  whose  work  was  continued  by 
his  sons,  combined  with  oratorical  argument  spectacular  effects 
obtained  by  the  use  of  machines,  and  gave  greater  importance  to 
the  choral  ballets.  After  the  beginning  of  the  fourth  century,  the 
history  of  tragedy  becomes  more  and  more  obscure.  We  see  that  it 
is  passing  into  decadence,  liepresentations,  it  is  true,  continue  to 
be  given  regularly ;  but  the  plays  were  the  ancient  classic  ones, 
those  of  the  great  masters  —  in  connection  with  new  plays  regarded 
as  having  less  merit.  Euripides  was  particularly  in  favor.  Tal- 
ented actors  won  their  reputations  by  assuming  the  principal  roles 
in  his  plays.  The  actors  were  organized  in  societies,  and  travelled 
from  city  to  city  with  the  masterpieces.  Almost  all  the  larger 
Greek  cities  then  built  permanent  theatres.  The  magnificence  of 
the  spectacles  increased  with  the  art  of  tragic  declamation.  But  the 
creative  originality  of  the  poets  appears  to  have  diminished  in  the 
same  ratio.  In  the  absence  of  great  works  still  surviving,  it  is 
difficult  to  determine  exactly  the  character  of  the  last  tragedies 
produced. 

A  certain  number  of  poets  seem  to  have  devoted  themselves  to 
continuing  the  tradition  of  the  masters,  under  the  especial  influence 
of  Euripides.  They  confined  themselves  to  a  small  number  of 
pathetic  legends,  always  the  same ;  and  they  sought  to  renew  them, 
not  by  character  painting,  which  seemed  exhausted,  but  by  ingen- 
ious recombinations,  more  carefully  studied  intrigue,  recognitions, 
unexpected  events,  and  display  of  the  forensic  and  dialectic  then 
in  vogue.  Such  were,  doubtless  with  individual  differences  un- 
known to  us :  Aphareus,  the  adopted  son  of  Isocrates ;  Astydamas 
the  Elder,  a  descendant  of  ^^]schylus,  and  his  son,  Astydamas  the 
Younger;  Theodectes  of  Phaselis,  a  celebrated  orator  as  well  as 
tragic  poet ;  and  still  others  whose  names  have  not  sufficient  merit 
to  be  mentioned. 

Some  few,  a  very  small  number,  exaggerating  still  more  the 
importance  of  rhetoric,  show  a  tendency  somewliat  distinct.     They 


228  Greek  Literature 

are  poets  of  feeble  dramatic  sense,  who  regard  tragedy  as  a  basis  for 
amplifications  or  descriptions,  and  who,  at  last,  seem  to  aim  rather 
at  being  read  than  represented.  The  best  known  among  them  is 
Chaeremon,  who  has  left  us  a  few  fragments.  He  appears  to  be  a 
graceful  poet,  though  lacking  force.  His  elegance  is  rather  effemi- 
nate, and  in  no  way  appropriate  to  the  theatre. 

To  this  period,  which  is  obscure  enough  on  the  whole,  belongs  a 
single  tragedy  still  extant,  the  Rhesus,  falsely  attributed  by  the 
manuscripts  to  Euripides.  The  play,  a  dramatic  recasting  of  the 
tenth  book  of  the  Iliad,  the  Lay  of  Dolon,  represents  the  death  of 
Rhesus,  king  of  Thrace,  who  came  to  the  help  of  Troy,  but  was 
surprised  and  massacred  in  his  camp  by  Odysseus  and  Diomed.  It 
is  a  curious  example  of  composite  art,  showing  imitation  of  the 
three  great  masters  of  classic  drama,  with  a  marked  taste  for  the 
picturesque  in  representation  and  for  pompous  recitative. 

At  last,  toward  the  middle  of  the  fourth  century,  the  time  of 
Alexander  the  Great,  tragedy,  without  ceasing  to  be  in  favor,  no 
longer  produced  original  works.  It  was  to  be  perpetuated  in  the 
succeeding  period  in  theatres  erected  by  the  successors  of  Alex- 
ander in  their  new  capitals ;  but  it  was  no  longer  renewed.  Its 
influence,  assured  by  the  great  classic  masters,  was  still  great;  it 
spread  everywhere  the  knowledge  of  the  old  legends  and  the  relish 
for  dramatic  emotions ;  it  was  one  of  the  agents  in  the  diffusion  of 
Hellenism,  and  of  all  the  ideas  and  sentiments  connected  with  it. 
It  gave  rise  to  Roman  tragedy ;  and  much  later,  after  the  Middle 
Ages,  it  contributed  largely  to  produce  the  modern  classic  drama. 
Yet  from  the  time  of  Alexander,  it  may  be  regarded  as  exhausted, 
since  it  ceased  to  inspire  great  poets.  The  survival  of  the  type, 
due  to  the  talent  of  the  actors  who  tried  to  maintain  its  vigor,  nec- 
essarily seemed  artificial ;  and  the  time  was  to  come,  as  might  have 
been  prophesied,  Avhen  the  public,  weary  of  seeing  only  the  plays 
that  it  had  seen  already,  preferred  the  mute  spectacle  of  panto- 
mime, which  recalled  the  same  legends  without  the  fatigue  of  con- 
stant repetition. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

BEGINNINGS  OF  COMEDY 

1.  First  Forms  of  Comedy.  The  Phallic  Chants  and  the  Dionysiac  Comos. 
The  So-called  Doric  and  Megarian  Comedy.  Susarion,  Myllus,  Meson. 
2.  Sicilian  Comedy.  Epicharmus.  3.  Origin  of  the  Sicilian  Mime.  So- 
phron  and  Xenarchiis.  4.  Rise  of  Attic  Comedy.  Comic  Contests.  Earli- 
est Poets  of  the  Old  Comedy.  Cratinus.  5.  Form  and  Character  of  Comic 
Representations  at  Athens.  6.  Structure  of  Comedy.  7.  Nature  of  the 
Action  and  of  the  Characters  in  the  Comedy  of  the  Fifth  Century.  Its 
Spirit.     Definition  of  the  so-called  Old  Comedy.     Its  Language. 

1.  First  Forms  of  Comedy.  The  Phallic  Chants  and  the  Dionysiac 
Comos.  The  So-called  Doric  and  Megarian  Comedy.  Susarion,  Myllus, 
and  Meson.^  —  While  tragedy  was  thus  accomplishing  its  evolution, 
the  other  great  form  of  drama,  comedy,  was  developing  beside  it, 
somewhat  under  its  influence,  and  following,  through  various  phases, 
a  destiny  no  less  complex. 

Like  traj^edy,  Greek  comedy  was  developed  out  of  the  Dionysiac 
festivals,  and  remained  intimately  connected  with  them  throughout 
the  classic  period. 

According  to  some  important  testimony  in  Aristotle's  Poetics 
(c.  5),  it  had  its  origin  in  the  phallic  chants.  These  were  sung  by  a 
rustic  procession  which  bore  across  the  fields  an  emblem  of  fecun- 
dity. An  affirmation  from  such  an  authority  cannot  be  put  in 
question  :  but  one  may  remark  that  Aristotle,  in  thus  expressing 
himself,  has  not  wished  to  describe  all  the  details  of  the  things  he 
Avitnessed;  and  that  the  brevity  of  his  statement,  if  it  be  taken 
literally,  would  make  them  appear  more  simple  than  tliey  were.  In 
the  beginning,  the  festivals  took  place  in  the  Attic  demes  on  dates 
not  everywhere  the  same.     Later,  when  dramatic  competitions  were 

1  Editions  :  The  fragments  of  tlie  comic  poets  have  often  been  collected, 
particularly  by  Mcineke,  Frngmentn  Cnmicoriim  Gnvcnrum,  5  vols.,  lierlin, 
18;5!t-1841  ;  Mcineke  and  I?othe,  Comicorum  (ircvcnrnm  Fra(jmpnta.  with  a 
]vatiii  translation,  1  vol.,  Paris,  Didot,  1855  ;  Th.  Ivock,  Comicorum  Atticorum 
Fraijmenta,  .'5  vols.,  Leipsic,  1880-1888;  Kaibel,  Cnmiroritm  (fra'corum  Frag- 
menta,  1st  part  of  vol.  I  of  roetarum  GrcEconan  Fratjmcnta.  by  Wilamowitz- 
Mollendorf,  Berlin,  1809. 

Genkkai.  Wouks  :  Meineke.  Ilistorin  Comirorum  ffnvcorum,  1830,  being 
vol.  I  of  the  above  collection  ;  Du  M('n-il.  Ilistoirc  df  la  comedii'  anrienne,  2  vols., 
Paris.  ]804-18tJ0;  Denis,  La  Comrdic  grccuxc.  2  vols.,  Paris,  188G ;  Couat, 
Aristophane  et  la  co)nedie  attique,  Paris,  1880. 

2-20 


230     -  Greek  Literature 

regularly  held,  comedy  was  assigned  more  specially  to  the  Lenaea, 

the   city  festival  celebrated  at   the  close  of  winter.      This   is  an 

arrangement  whose  origin  and  antiquity  are  obscure. 

I/'        At  all  events,  the  object  of  the  rustic  processions  was  to  cele- 

/(    brate  mirthfully  the  power  of  the  god  who  gave  the  wine.     Like  the 

I  ^  dithyramb,  they  demanded  the  presence  of  a  soloist  (6  iidpx^v)  and 

1      of  a  chorus.     The  soloist  celebrated  the  god,  the  joy  of  the  day,  the 

\     good  wine ;  and  doubtless,  too,  he  mingled  with  his  hymns,  which 

\    were  more  or  less  improvised,  countless  jests  and  turns  of  fancy  ; 

\    the  chorus  replied  in  refrains,  mingled  with  cries  and  appeals  to  the 

I  god.     In  the  absence  of  regular  form,  there  might  be  occasion  for 

1  raillery  or  buffoonery,  perhaps  even  for  snatches  of  dialogue.     At 

/  any  rate,  judging  from  the  formal  testimony  of  Aristotle,  this  was 

I tJie  first  and  most  essential  element  of  primitive  comedy. 

But  the  chants  formed  part  of  a  series  of  noisy  celebrations, 
from  which  they  could  not  be  separated  except  by  abstraction. 
They  constituted  together  the  comos;  and  it  is  precisely  from  this 
title  that  the  word  "comedy"  was  formed.  To  celebrate  the  comos 
''  (Kwfid^eLv)  meant  not  only  to  go  through  the  fields  in  procession,  but 
also  to  banquet,  and  after  the  banquet,  to  go  into  the  streets  in  joy- 
ous bands,  that  danced,  bandied  and  disputed  with  one  another, 
improvised  taunts,  and  perhaps  mimicked  some  one  whom  they  con- 
sidered ridiculous.  Such  a  festival,  celebrated  in  intoxication,  was 
really  a  comedy,  informal  as  yet,  and  rather  disorganized,  but  singu- 
larly animated.  It  needed  only  discipline  to  produce  works  of 
artistic  merit. 

i-  To  these  primitive  elements  must  perhaps  be  added  the  proces- 
sion of  wains  {iro^nrua),  spoken  of  in  certain  ancient  accounts.  What 
is  probably  meant  is  the  going  and  coming  of  the  vine-dressers  when 
they  took  their  casks  to  the  city.  The  usage  appears  to  have  given 
rise  to  a  joyful  carnival  comparable  to  the  primitive  Return  from  the 
Courtille.  There  were  challenges,  sportive  mockery,  and  well-meant 
billingsgate  ;  coarse  language,  bacchic  songs,  cries,  and  disputes  ;  and 
all  was  accompanied  with  bursts  of  laughter.  This  could  suggest  to 
nascent  comedy  many  an  invention  Avhose  nature  to-day  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  determine.  However,  we  need  not  follow  the  development 
of  each  one,  since  chance  and  caprice  must  have  played  an  important 
part.  The  only  thing  possible  is  to  give  a  general  idea  without  pre- 
tending even  to  apparent  exactness  —  for  exactness  would  alter  the 
reality. 

These  ancient  usages  are  attested  for  Attica.  They  must  have 
been  in  vogue  at  the  same  time  through  all  the  regions  of  Greece 
whero  the  vine  was  cultivated.     It  has  been  thought  that,  in  certain 


Beginnings  of  Comedy  231 

Doric  countries,  comedy  had  been  produced  ever  since  the  sixth 
century  under  more  regular  forms.^  But  what  we  discern  there 
scarcely  differs  from  what  has  been  described.  In  Laconia,  various 
kinds  of  dances  and  mimic  representations  are  cited  in  which  men 
called  dicelistes  took  part.  But  the  mimicry  was  rather  like  pantomime 
than  like  comedy  in  the  strict  sense.  At  Sicyon,  bands  of  phallo- 
p?iores  are  mentioned,  who  indulged  in  various  buffooneries.  This 
must  have  closely  resembled,  in  the  beginning  at  least,  the  Attic 
improvisations  to  Dionysus.  We  are  not,  however,  in  possession  of 
definite  dates. 

But  at  !Megara,  after  the  sixth  century,  something  like  an 
attempt  at_ org^anized  gomedy  may  be  discerned.  Aristotle  speaks*^ 
of  the  influence  exercised  by  the  rise  of  the  democracy  over  the  new 
literary  production,  and  of  the  warm  reception  which  its  representa- 
tives found  in  the  villages  of  the  district.  These  statements  refer,  in 
a  general  way,  to  the  sixth  century ;  and  we  have  no  reason  for  call- 
ing them  in  question.  The  difficulty  lies  in  defining  just  what  this 
comedy  was.  It  certainly  was  satiric,  since  it  owed  its  rise  to  the 
growth  of  public  liberty;  but  probably  it  had  no  great  literary  merit, 
as  it  did  not  succeed  in  gaining  admission  to  the  cities.  We  may 
suppose  that  it  consisted  chiefly  of  short,  mirthful  scenes,  mingled 
with  songs  more  or  less  resembling  those  played  spontaneously  in 
the  Dionysiac  festivals.  These  disconnected  scenes,  as  a  type,  must 
have  been  more  like  our  parades  at  fairs  than  like  real  comedy. 

It  is  this  Megarian  farce  which,  according  to  a  tradition  rather 
uncertain  and  doubtful,  was  brought  to  Attica  by  Susarion  about  ^^  metCC 
570.  After  him,  ^Nlyllus  and  iviaesonTlioets  "still  more  obscure,  are 
said  to  have  cultivated  it  with  success  in  the  time  of  Pisistratus 
and  his  sons.  These  statements  are  really  insufficiently  confirmed  ; 
and  it  is  only  in  the  beginning  of  the  next  century,  after  the  time  of 
the  Persian  Wars,  that  Attic  comedy  really  rnade  its  appearance  in 
literary  liistory.  "^ 

2.  Sicilian  Comedy.  Epicharmus." — But  comedy  had  been  or- 
ganized some  years  earlier  in  another  part  of  the  Greek  world, 
namelv,  Sicily.     It  is  there  that  we  must  study  its  real  origin. 

The  beginnings  of  the  Sicilian  conuuly  are  even  more  obscure 
than  those  of  the  Attic  type.   We  may  believe,  however,  that  there  was 

1  Grysar.  7)c  Doriensium  Cnmaedia,  Cologne,  1827. 

-  KimioNs  :  Kruseiiianii,  Epirhanjii  Fraijmenta,  Haarlem,  18o4  ;  Mullach, 
in  rhiloHaphornm  (rrceconim  Frnijinrnta,  I,  Paris,  Didot,  1860;  Kaibol,  Comi- 
corura  Grwcorum  Fraf/menta.  sup.  rit. 

Consult  :  Denis,  sup.  cit. ;  Artaud,  Fragmonts  pour  servir  a  Vhistnire  de  la 
cnmrd.ie  attique,  Paris,  18G3  ;  J.  Girard,  Etudes  sur  la  poesie  grecque,  Paris, 
1884. 


232  Greek  Literature 

no  great  difference  between  them.  There,  too,  it  was  probably  from 
the  joyful  festivities  of  Dionysus  that  the  future  literary  type  arose. 
And  one  may  at  least  suspect,  if  not  assert,  that  certain  special  in- 
fluences favored  its  development  there  more  than  elsewhere.  The 
Sicilian  people  were  fond  of  jest  and  sport;  they  had  a  natural 
relish  for  mimicry  and  expressive  gesture  ;  they  liked  to  mimic  or 
parody  everything  that  excited  their  spirit  of  merriment.  It  seems 
that  iambic  poetry  among  them  was  particularly  successful.  In  a 
fragment  of  Epicharmus  appears  the  name  of  a  certain  Aristoxenus, 
otherwise  unknown,  who  probably  won  some  local  fame  for  success 
in  this  type  of  composition.  In  any  case,  one  can  scarcely  doubt 
that  the  mime,  which  is  an  amusing  imitation  of  certain  scenes  of 
daily  life,  was  popular  there.  Indeed,  we  shall  soon  see  that  it  be- 
came literary.  Before  being  admitted  as  literature,  it  must  have 
been  produced  spontaneously,  by  improvisation,  in  social  reunions, 
public  houses,  and  market-places.  The  mime  is  really  the  basis  of 
Sicilian  comedy.  It  is  not  impossible  that  this  race  of  improvisers, 
clever  in  imitating  serious  things  for  its  own  amusement,  took  pleas- 
ure in  parodying  even  mythological  scenes  that  had  been  rendered 
familiar  by  epic  or  lyric  poems.  However  this  may  be,  the  represen- 
tation of  ordinary  manners,  as  the  principal  component,  with  mytho- 
logical parody  and  intentional  satire,  as  accessories,  are  the  elements 
from  which  Sicilian  comedy  was  formed. 

It  had  two  notewortliy  representatives,  Epicharmus  and  Phor- 
mis  (or  Phormus)  ;  but  the  latter's  works,  for  some  reason,  seem  to 
have  disappeared  with  him,  while  the  former's  were  long  extant  and 
are  still  fairly  well  known  from  fragments  and  notices.  Hence  it  is 
with  Epicharmus  alone  that  we  must  he  occupied  at  present. 

P>orn  probably  at  Cos,  lietween  o20  and  oOO,  he  went,  when  very 
young,  to  Megava  Hyblsea  in  Sicily.  He  seems  to  have  estal)lished 
himself  early  at  Syracuse,  where,  says  Suidas.  he  brought  out  plays 
as  early  as  4SC.  Soon  becoming  famous,  he  enjoyed  the  favor  of  the 
tyrants  Gelo  and  Hiero.  After  the  latter's  death,  in  408,  he  disap- 
pears from  sight  A  biogra])her  assures  us  that  he  lived  to  the  age 
of  ninety.     He  wrote  about  forty  comedies. 

K]iicli;irnius  is  one  of  the  great  names  in  Cireek  literature.  Plato 
considered  liim  the  most  eminent  representative  of  light  poetry,  as 
Homer  was  of  serious.'  Accordint:^  to  the  ex])ress  statement  of  Aris- 
totle, liis  great  innovation  was  tliat  he  c;ave  ^^fl_^omedy  plot,  or 
intrigue.-  Till  then,  notwithstanding  some  futile  attempts  to  do 
this,  it  was  com])osed  ftf  sliort.  isolated  scenes  or  disconnected  bur- 
lesques. He  was  the  first  to  succeed  in  making  the  public  accept  an 
1  Tlic:etetus,  p.  \'yl  E.  -  Aristotle.  Poet.,  c.  5. 


Beginnings  of  Comedy  233 

action  analogous  to  that  of  tragedy — the  regular  development  of  a 
given  situation,  through  a  certain  number  of  phases,  to  its  resolu- 
tion. 

This  action,  as  far  as  we  can  judge  from  such  titles  of  his  plays  as 
are  known,  was  now  borrowed  from  myth,  now  created  by  the  poet  in 
imitation  of  the  incidents  of  contemporary  life.  In  the  first  case, 
comedy  was  an  ^venture,  heroic  or  divine,  turned  into  sport ;  in  the  r»^ 
second,  it  was  a  represeiirtlSion  "inoTe'o^F^^^  occupied  witli  the  man- 
ners  of  the  time.  It  is  quite  possible  that  the  first  of  the  two  forms 
served  as  a  model  for  the  second.  Myths  had  furnished  the  Athe- 
nian and  Sicyonian  tragedy  and  satyr-drama  with  themes  for  more 
than  a  century.  In  a  way,  Epicharmus  needed  only  to  change  into 
buftoonery  what  was  otherwise  represented  in  seriousness ;  and,  as 
the  adventures  of  the  gods  were,  on  the  whole,  commonplace  enough, 
often  resembling  those  of  mortal  men,  the  task  of  transforming  this 
mythological  comedy  into  the  comedy  of  real  life  was  almost  reduced 
to  the  changing  of  the  names. 

The  extant  fragments  and  titles  do  not  enable  us  to  get  a  precise 
idea  of  the  manner  in  which  Epicharmus  developed  a  comic  theme. 
At  the  very  most,  a  word  of  Horace  leads  us  to  believe  that  his  plays, 
in  general,  were  remarkable  for  animation  and  movement,  like  those 
of  the  Latin  poet  Plautus,  who  imitated  him  {Plautus  ad  exemplar 
Siculi  properare  Epicharmi,  Ep.  II,  1,  58).  From  this,  one  may  sup- 
pose that  they  were  still  somewhat  like  elementary  comedy,  of 
which  they  were  a  transformation.  The  scenes  were  short,  tlie 
plot  not  complicated,  the  digressions  realistic  but  not  numerous ; 
and  the  action  proceeded  in  rapid  course  directly  to  its  resolution. 
Yet  this,  we  must  admit,  is  only  a  conjecture,  and  a  vague  one.  Un- 
fortunately, we  have  not  the  means  of  rendering  it  more  precise. 

Fantasy,  observation,  and  reflection  seem  to  have  had  almost  equal 
importance  in  the  invention  of  his  details  and  in  the  creation  of  his 
characters.  His  Marrio/je  of  Hebe  contained  long  descri[)tions  of 
a  miraculous  fishing  expedition  of  Poseidon  and  of  an  Olympic  ban- 
quet. There  were  in  it  amusing  enumerations  of  names,  and  of  kinds 
of  fish  and  mollusks.  But  we  can  discern  in  it  the  work  of  a  man  of 
shrewd  observation,  a  mirthful  poet  who  took  delight  in  comic  effects. 
Four  verses  of  his  Busirin  represent  Heracles  as  about  to  satisfy  his 
giant  appetite  ;  some  narrator  has  transcribed  it  thus  :  "  Only  to  see 
him  eat  is  enough  to  make  one  die  of  fear.  A  dull  rumble  issues 
from  the  depth  of  his  gullet ;  his  jaws  crash ;  his  molars  grind  with 
a  frightful  dry  sound ;  his  canines  gnash  horribly  ;  his  nostrils  snort ; 
his  ears  move  up  and  down."  Clear,  strong  vision  of  details  is  com- 
bined in  these  verses  with  a  fantastic  excess  that  becomes  brutal. 


234  Greek  Literature 

The  writer  had  a  sense  of  what  would  amuse  the  throng ;  we  shall 
see  elsewhere  that  he  had  as  well  a  fine  moral  intuition. 

Some  extant  passages  of  his  really  show  that  he  could  draw 
character.  He  was  the  first  to  represent  those  types  of  common 
humanity  which  have  always  so  fnlly  occupied  comic  drama,  and 
he  did  it  well.  One  of  his  most  interesting  fragments,  taken  from 
a  play  entitled  Hope,  is  the  monologue  of  a  parasite,  who  does 
honor  to  his  grossness  with  the  cynicism  of  a  buti'oon;  and  yet, 
beneath  the  light  effrontery,  unprincipled  squalor  is  displayed  in  all 
its  crudeness :  — 

'*  I  dine  with  any  one  who  Avishes  me  :  enough  that  he  invites  me ; 
and  even  sometimes  with  those  who  do  not  wish  me  ;  really  the  in- 
vitation is  superfluous.  At  table,  I  am  full  of  wit,  I  make  everybody 
laugh,  I  praise  the  man  who  gives  the  dinner.  If  any  one  attempts 
to  contradict  him,  I  assume  his  defence,  I  do,  and  take  upon  myself 
the  quarrel.  When  I  have  eaten  and  drunk  well,  I  go  away.  No 
slave,  lantern  in  hand,  attends  me.  I  pass  along,  not  without  false 
steps  —  along  through  the  dark  —  all  alone.  And  if  by  chance  I  meet 
an  officer,  I  consider  it  a  great  favor  of  the  gods,  that  he  does  not  beat 
me  unmercifully,  but  rests  content  with  giving  me  a  fair  cudgelling. 
When  at  length  I  arrive  home  black  and  blue,  I  lie  down  on  the  hard 
earth  ;  and  for  a  time,  I  cannot  sleep,  until  at  last  the  good  effect  of 
the  fine  wine  makes  itself  felt  upon  my  spirits." 

If  some  happy  chance  had  preserved  for  us  the  Peasant,  the  Pillage, 
and  the  Merjarian  Woman,  we  should  have  in  them  frank  ])ictures, 
in  which  some  of  the  most  interesting  s])eciniens  of  the  Greek  people 
of  Sicily  would  be  brought  before  us.  The  costumes  of  the  peo])le, 
their  life,  their  motion,  their  familiar  intercourse,  would  be  no  less 
vividly  portrayed  than  their  character.  To  describe  the  appearance 
and  the  reality  —  to  seize  at  a  glance  the  characteristic  trait  of  the 
disposition  or  the  dress,  and  to  develop  it  with  an  amusing  sense  of 
the  ridiculous  is  the  great  gift  of  true  comic  poets,  and  certainly 
that  of  Epicharmus. 
V  /  Such  comedies  were  full  of  philosophy,  since  they  were  full  of 
'  truth.  ])Ut  the  ancient  notices  represent  Epicharmus  as  a  phi- 
losopher in  the  strict  sense  of  the  word.  Diogenes  Laertius  gave 
him  a  place  in  his  Lives  of  the  Philoso)>hers,  classing  him  as  a  Pythag- 
orean. And  in  so  doing  Diogenes  clearly  followed  a  tradition,  con- 
firmed to  some  extent  by  a  goodly  number  of  extant  fragments. 
Yet  it  would  probably  be  an  exaggeration  to  attribute  to  the  come- 
dies of  P]])ieharmus  a  very  clearly  marked  tendenc}'  to  Pythagorean- 
ism.  It  is  hard  to  see  how  a  light,  po])ular  composition  should  have 
been  used  in  setting  forth  abstract  doctrines:  and  if  by  impossibility 
the  miracle  had  been  realized,  no  doubt  his  didactic  comedies  would 


Beginnings  of  Comedy  235 

have  produced,  as  such,  a  greater  stir  in  the  world  than  they  did. 
Epicharmus  was,  indeed,  a  reflective  genius,  writing  under  the 
influence  of  contemporary  philosophy.  He  studied  it  for  his  own 
pleasure,  and  so  must  have  made  frequent  allusion  to  it  in  his 
plays.  Thus  he  could  be  really  a  philosopher  in  comedy,  as 
Eiu'ipides,  a  little  later,  was  in  tragedy.  Such  was  the  reputation 
he  acquired  while  still  alive ;  and  this  gave  rise  after  his  death 
to  Pythagorean  treatises  composed  under  his  name,  which,  owing 
to  the  current  opinion,  could  be  attributed  to  him  without  much 
implausibility. 

He  revealed  to  Greece  the  true  nature  of  comedy.  He  was  the 
model  for  the  great  Attic  poets  ;  and  when  Plato  put  him  above 
them,  at  the  side  of  Homer,  he  did  so  justly,  since  Epicharmus  at 
least  preceded  them,  even  if  he  did  not  pass  by  them  on  the  royal 

road.  0  i  C  O  r^  r.  .A^    '.  ^> 

3.  Origin  01  the  Sicilian'  Mime.  Sophron  and  Xenarchus.'  —  "While 
we  are  occupied  with  Sicily,  let  us  take  the  opportunity  to  consider, 
regardless  of  chronology,  the  origins  of  a  type  closely  akin  to 
comedy,  the  mime.  We  have  indicated  that  it  was  probably  spon- 
taneous among  the  Sicilian  people.  At  any  rate,  it  assumed  among 
them  a  literary  form  in  the  second  half  of  the  fifth  century. 

The  man  who  raised  it  above  obscurity  was  Sophron.  He  was  a 
Syracusan,  probably  of  humble  origin,  who  by  his  art  maintained 
always  an  intimate  connection  with  the  people.  According  to 
Suidas,  he  was  contemporary  with  Euripides.  His  plan's,  called 
mimes,  like  the  popular  improvisations  whence  they  are  said  to  have 
sprung,  were  divided  into  two  groups,  mimes  of  men  (fUfjLOi  di'Spetoi) 
and  mimes  of  women  (ixifioL  ywaLKctot)  according  as  the  characters 
were  the  one  or  the  other.  It  seems  that  the  two  sexes  were  never 
both  represented  in  the  same  play  —  which  indicates  clearly  enough 
that  there  was  no  plot.  Each  mime  was  probably  a  mere  short 
dialogue,  devoid  of  real  action,  between  two  popular  characters. 
Nothing  can  give  lis  a  more  vivid  or  truer  idea  of  them  than  the 
Si/raciisa7i  Women  of  Theocritus,  that  amusing,  elegant  conversation 
between  two  mothers  in  Alexandria.  It  is  expressly  stated  by  a 
scholiast  to  have  been  imitated  from  a  mime  of  Sophron.  There  is 
no  dramatic  situation,  merely  some  pretext  for  chatting  or  disputes : 
a  visit,  an  interview,  a  purchase,  a  festival,  a  jostling,  no  matter 
what ;    and   then  a  lively,   rapid,   amusing  conversation,   in   which 

1  The  fragments  of  Sophron  are  given  in  an  appendix  in  Ahrens,  De  Dialecto 
Dorica,  Gottingen,  1848.  The  best  edition  is  Kaibel,  in  Comicorum  Atticorum 
Fragmentn.  sup.  cit. 

Consult :  Heitz,  Des  Mimes  de  Sophron,  Strassburg,  1851  ;  Fuhr,  De  Mimis 
Groecorum,  Berlin,  1860 ;  Denis,  sup.  cit. 


236  Greek  Literature 

every  word  is  a  trait  of  character.  It  seems  made  out  of  nothing, 
and  yet  the  nothing  is  substantial  and  interesting.  A  few  titles  still 
preserved  may  help  to  a  better  conception  of  the  nature  of  these 
mimes:  the  Tunny-fisher,  the  Old  Man,  the  Fisher  and  the  Peasant, 
the  Clothes-mender,  the  Wallers,  the  Sorceresses,  the  Women  at  the 
Isthmian  Games,  etc.  All  these  plays  were  in  prose,  and  so  were 
more  like  reality ;  but  the  brief,  terse  prose,  broken  into  short 
phrases,  had  something  rhythmic  about  it  which  caught  the  ear. 
The  language  was  the  popular  Doric,  more  popular  than  that  of 
Epicharmus. 

Diogenes  Laertius  reports  that  Plato  delighted  in  reading 
Sophron,  introduced  him  at  Athens,  and  imitated  him  in  his  dia- 
logues. The  alert,  witty  grace  of  the  Syracusan,  notwithstanding 
the  designed  commonplaceness  of  his  subjects,  must  have  afforded 
much  delight  and  suggestion  to  the  master  of  Attic  dialogue. 

After  Sophron,  the  same  type  was  cultivated,  but  with  less  suc- 
cess, by  his  son  Xenarchus,  of  whom  we  know  almost  nothing.  It 
is  probable  that  the  mime,  whatever  may  have  been  the  vicissitudes 
of  its  career,  never  ceased  to  please.  We  shall  find  it  again,  modi- 
fied in  form,  indeed,  but  still  substantially  the  same,  in  Herondas 
and  Theocritus,  in  the  Alexandrian  period. 

4.  Rise  of  Attic  Comedy.  Comic  Contests.  Earliest  Poets  of  the  Old 
Comedy.  Cratinus.*  —  Comedy  had  received  its  form  in  Sicily  at  the 
hands  of  Epicharmus  and  Phormis  when  the  second  Persian  War 
broke  out.  In  Greece  proper,  and  particularly  at  Athens,  it  was  still 
in  a  rudimentary  state.  It  was  only  after  the  victories  of  Salamis 
and  Plataea  that  Attic  comedy  was  transformed  —  raised  in  character 
to  keep  pace  with  the  universal  uplift  of  the  national  mind.  One 
may  consider  the  fifty  years  from  480  to  430  as  the  period  of  pro- 
ductive organization,  preparing  the  way  for  the  masterpieces  of 
Aristophanes. 

Unfortunately  it  is  quite  impossible  to  trace  the  progress  of  comedy 
in  Sicily.  Even  Aristotle  could  not  trace  it,  so  few  were  the  notices 
that  had  survived  concerning  the  type.  Comedy  was  not  willing  to 
be  taken  seriously.  Its  buffooneries  were  laughed  at,  but  no  one 
took  the  trouble  to  note  just  how  it  progressed  from  year  to  year. 

An  important  advance,  however,  was  made  in  the  adoption  of  a 
plot  or  intrigue  by  which  the  scenes  could  be  bound  together  and  the 
play  prolonged  to  a  considerable  length.  This  essentially  superior 
type   came    horn   Sicily,  as  Aristotle    seems   to   affirm.     But   it    is 

Mlis  frafrraent.s  are  in  the  collection  above  mentioned,  particularly  well 
edited  by  Kaibel. 

Consult  :  Poppelreviter,  Dc  Comcedicc  Attica:  Priinordiis,  1895. 


Beginnings  of  Comedy  237 

scarcely  doubtful  that  contemporary  tragedy  also  had  some  influence 
in  the  matter.  This  innovation  would  imply  several  others :  the  use 
of  masks  to  give  each  role  its  proper  characterization ;  the  establish- 
ment of  a  normal  structure,  the  formal  division  into  parts  more  or  / 
less  analogous  to  those  of  tragedy ;  and  the  decision  upon  the 
number  of  actors.  It  must  all  have  taken  place  in  this  period;  for, 
in  the  time  of  Aristophanes,  we  find  comedy  fully  developed.  But 
the  ancients  themselves  did  not  know  to  whom  the  successive  steps 
of  progress  were  to  be  attributed. 

Early  in  the  period  a  decisive  event  occurred  —  the  institution  of 
a  contest  in  comedy.  A  fragment  of  an  inscription,  fomid  mutilated 
in  1878,  enables  us  to  assert  that  it  was  before  the  last  victory  of 
.Eschylus  in  458 ;  the  date  may  be  several  years  earlier.  At  any  rate, 
comedy  had  from  then  on  a  recognition  in  the  city.  It  had  once 
seemed  unworthy,  and  won  its  first  successes  in  the  country. 
"  Much  time  passed,"  says  Aristotle,  "  before  the  archon  provided  a 
chorus  for  comedy  ;  till  then,  the  good  will  of  the  people  gave  it  all 
the  aid  it  received."  The  subvention  of  the  state  placed  it  on  the 
same  rank  as  tragedy,  or  almost  so.  Yet  sometimes  it  paid  a  dear 
price  for  its  privilege.  Again  and  again  the  state  restrained  its  liberty. 
Plutarch  tells  of  a  law  that  prevented  members  of  the  Areopa- 
gus from  writing  comic  plays.  More  serious  still,  one  was  passed 
in  440  prohibiting  the  representation  of  actions  of  men  of  the  day. 
Abrogated  in  437,  it  was  reenacted  in  416.  Nevertheless,  on  the 
whole,  during  the  fifth  century,  the  regime  of  entire  liberty  prevailed, 
as  we  shall  see  when  we  come  to  study  the  leading  poets  of  the  time. 

Chionides  and  Magnes  are  cited  by  Aristotle  as  the  two  most 
ancient  comic  poets  at  Athens  worthy  of  being  named.  The  first  is 
said  to  have  made  his  appearance  between  480  and  450.  There  is 
nothing  of  his  in  existence  that  can  be  mentioned  here.  The  repu- 
tation of  Magnes  was  more  brilliant.  Aristophanes  has  given  us  a 
summary  of  his  career  in  the  parabasis  of  the  Knights  (v.  519  ff.) :  "  I 
know  what  happened  to  Magnes,  when  his  hairs  became  gray.  Yet 
many  were  the  trophies  that  he  won,  victorious  over  his  rivals.  In 
vain,  attempting  to  deceive  the  people,  did  he  speak  all  sorts  of 
language,  in  vain  did  he  play  the  lute,  flap  his  wings,  compose  in 
the  Lydian  mode,  disguise  himself  as  a  gnawing  gall  insect,  and 
give  his  clothing  the  tinge  of  frog's  hide  :  he  could  please  no  longer. 
At  last,  by  a  misfortune  that  he  had  not  known  in  youth,  he  was 
driven  from  the  theatre,  an  old  man,  because  the  spirit  of  his  wit 
had  left  him."  From  this  passage,  plausible  titles  have  been  made 
out  for  several  of  his  comedies :  the  Lute-players,  the  Birds,  the 
Lydians,  the  Gall  Insects,  the  Froijs.     They  give  some  idea  of   the 


238  Greek  Literature 

variety  of  his  invention.  Magnes  must  have  been  a  man  with  some 
imaginative  power,  to  give  such  forms  of  soaring  fancy  to  the  old 
Dionysiac  satire.  As  long  as  he  made  new  inventions,  he  held  the 
favor  of  the  people ;  but  he  lacked  force  of  thought.  Men  grew 
weary  of  his  buffooneries  when  they  perceived  that  these  were  used 
again  and  again,  and  that  nothing  new  was  put  in  their  place. 

The  great  comic  poet  of  the  period  is  Cratinus,  who,  in  his  old 
age,  was  the  rival  of  Aristophanes.  We  do  not  know  the  date  of 
his  birth.  His  successes  were  won  between  449  and  423.  He  was 
an  Athenian.  Of  his  life  and  personality  we  know  almost  nothing, 
except  that  he  was  said  by  his  rivals  to  love  luxury,  good  cheer,  and 
wine.  Whether  the  imputations  were  true  or  not,  his  character  was 
certainly  exuberant ;  he  was  animated  by  an  ardent,  joyous  vigor. 
Aristophanes,  in  the  parabasis  of  the  Knights,  playfully  compared 
him  to  an  impetuous  torrent :  "  He  rolled  along  over  the  flat  country, 
amidst  a  loud  noise  of  acclamations  ;  and,  overturning  everything  in 
his  way,  he  carried  along  pell-mell  the  oaks,  the  plane  trees,  and  his 
uprooted  enemies."  In  a  fragment,  Cratinus  draws  a  similar  picture 
of  himself :  ''  By  Apollo  !  What  a  flood  of  words  !  An  ebullition  of 
gushing  water!  A  dozen  exits  instead  of  a  mouth !  A  whole  Ilissus 
in  his  gullet !  What  more  can  I  say  to  describe  him  ?  If  you  do 
not  put  a  plug  in  his  throat,  he  will  overflow  everything  with  his 
poetry."  ^  AVith  such  hyperbolic  fantasy,  there  must  go  an  extraor- 
dinary nature.  If  one  may  believe  Aristophanes,  Cratinus,  like 
Magnes,  ceased  to  please  the  people  in  his  extreme  old  age.  In  424, 
in  the  passage  of  the  Knights  already  cited,  the  young  ])oet  mischiev- 
ously represented  his  old  rival  as  a  shattered  instrument  falling  to 
pieces  and  no  longer  having  any  worth.  IJut  these  are  the  words  of 
a  satirist  and  competitor.  That  very  year  Cratinus  won  the  second 
prize,  and  took  the  first  the  year  after,  with  a  comedy  called  the 
Bottle.  One  is  warranted,  therefore,  in  believing  that,  till  the  last, 
he  continued  in  full  possession  of  his  powers. 

Cratinus  is  said  to  have  done  much  to  give  comedy  its  form  ;  but 
we  have  no  evidence  on  the  point  in  which  we  can  put  absolute  con- 
fidence. His  part  in  morals  and  politics  was  that  of  a  bold  censor 
whose  frankness  was  often  brutal.  "  Cratinus,  following  in  the  fool- 
steps  of  Archilochus,"  says  an  ancient  critic,  ''  was  bitter  in  his 
invectives."  His  raillery  is  not  concealed,  as  in  Aristophanes,  be- 
neath a  grace  that  subdues  the  harshness  of  the  censure ;  but  advances 
very  directly,  "  with  unveiled  face,"  as  it  were,  against  men  of  dis- 
honest character.-     According  to  another  account,  this  was  one  of 

1  Fr.  180,  Koch. 

'^  Scholia  Groeca  i?i  Aristoph.,  ed,  Didot,  proleg.  II. 


Beginnings  of  Comedy  239 

his  greatest  innovations :  "  To  the  pleasure  already  afforded  by 
comedy,  he  was  able  to  join  profit,  in  that  he  censured  dishonest  men 
I  and,  with  the  lash  of  his  tongue,  chastised  them  in  the  name  of 
I  public  opinion."  ^  From  this  it  appears  that  each  of  his  plays 
must  have  been  a  virulent  satire,  boldly  attacking  the  men  of  the 
day,  or  things  that  the  poet  considered  abusive. 

What  made  these  satires  agreeable  to  the  people,  even  with  their 
pungency,  was  the  poet's  inventive  genius.  Free  and  fertile,  he 
excelled  in  discovering  the  dramatic  phase  of  an  idea.  Outlines  of 
comedy  sprang  up  abundantly  in  his  imagination,  which  was  rich, 
vivid,  sportive.  He  could  give  a  thousand  ingenious,  striking  turns 
to  one  and  the  same  theme.  He  was  a  creator  by  instinct,  and  that 
constantly,  like  iEschylus,  to  whom  he  has  been  compared.  His 
ardor  and  natural  magnificence  made  him  like  the  authors  of  dithy- 
rambs ;  he  resembled  them  in  his  enthusiasm,  in  boldness  of  senti- 
ment, and  doubtless  also  in  style.  Lyric  poetry  was  instinctive  in 
him ;  some  of  his  songs  were  on  everybody's  lips.  Unfortunately, 
his  very  ardor  kept  him  from  self-mastery.  "  As  he  hurries  along," 
says  the  ancient  critic  already  cited,  "he  distorts  and  dislocates  his 
plan  in  every  way ;  he  cannot  complete  a  drama  in  conformity  with 
what  he  announces  at  the  beginning." 

Only  fragments  of  his  work  are  extant,  together  with  some  titles. 
A  glance  shows  that  he  attacked  the  statesmen  of  the  popular  party, 
notably  Pericles,  gibed  at  the  contemporary  effeminacy  of  character 
and  the  rich  debauchees,  censured  the  foreign  cults  and  their  super- 
stitious rites,  and  inveighed  against  the  sophists,  as  inventors  of 
quibbles  and  corruptors  of  ancient  discipline.  At  one  time  he  avouM 
bring  into  the  theatre  a  whole  chorus  of  critics  dressed  like  Archilo- 
chus,  a  veritable  mob,  bitterly  attacking  contemporary  vices ;  at 
another  he  would  call  forth  the  old  legislator  Solon,  filled  with  in- 
dignation at  the  sight  of  what  had  come  to  pass  in  the  city  whicli  he 
had  taught  of  old  to  be  wise  and  orderly.  The  Bottle  was  a  personal 
apology.  He  represented  himself  in  it  as  the  husband  of  Comedy, 
who  complained  that  he  abandoned  her  for  Drunkenness,  and  was 
ready  to  bring  an  action  at  law  against  him.  Some  friends  inter- 
vened ;  Comedy,  much  vexed,  exposed  to  them  her  grievances ; 
Cratinus  made  the  best  defence  that  he  was  able  ;  and  the  affair 
terminated,  probably,  in  a  compromise.  All  this  was  handled  in  a 
spirit  of  which  we  can  still  judge  from  a  few  extant  verses.  Cratinus 
seems  to  have  tried  also  another  sort  of  comedy  (owing  to  the  law  of 
440),  in  which  he  named  no  one  and  no  longer  treated  politics,  but 
•confined  himself  to  literary  parody.  This  was  probably  in  the  play 
1  Scholia  Orceca  in  Aristoph.,  ed.  Didot,  proleg.  V. 


240  Greek  Literature 


\ 


entitled  Odysseus.  But  it  is  an  exception  among  his  plays,  and  more 
interesting  than  important. 

After  Cratinus,  we  need  mention,  among  the  predecessors  of 
Aristophanes,  only  Crates  and  Pherecrates.  "Crates,"  says  Aris- 
totle (Poet.,  c.  5),  "  was  the  first  at  Athens  to  break  from  the  writ- 
ing of  iambics  (that  is,  from  direct,  personal  satire)  and  compose 
plays  general  in  tendency  and  purely  fictitious."  He  was  in  favor 
from  about  445  and  during  the  succeeding  years  till  about  424.  In 
his  play  entitled  the  Wild  Beasts,  two  characters  dream  out  loud  of 
a  marvellous  life  in  which  there  is  no  longer  any  need  of  slaves,  man 
being  served  by  the  animals,  or  even  by  domestic  utensils  grown 
intelligent.  Comedy,  thus  transformed,  becomes  a  fairy  tale. 
Pherecrates,  a  writer  somewhat  younger  than  Crates,  seems  to  have 
cultivated  the  same  sort  of  play.  Yet  moral  purpose  is  more  clearly 
evident  in  him.  His  comedy  of  the  Wild  Men  was  at  once  sportive 
and  philosophic.  In  it  a  chorus  of  misanthropes,  disgusted  with 
society  and  its  institutions,  go  to  dwell  among  real  savages.  But 
savagery,  though  charming  them  at  a  distance,  seems,  on  trial, 
odious  and  intolerable. 

f  5.  Form  and  Character  of  Comic  Representations  at  Athens.^  —  From 
the  middle  of  the  fifth  century,  comedy  was  established,  under  the 
influence  of  the  poets  just  named,  and  before  their  disappearance, 
in  the  form  that  it  was  to  have  in  Aristophanes.  Tliis  is  the  place, 
then,  to  say  a  few  words  about  its  nature.  In  certain  ways,  it 
resembled  contemporary  tragedy ;  but  in  others,  it  was  different. 
To  avoid  repetition,  we  shall  note  here  only  some  of  the  differences. 

Comedy  at  Athens  in  tlie  fifth  century  was  played  at  the  time 
of  the  Lentea,  the  urban  Dionysia,  and  the  rural  Dionysia.  But 
this  last  festival  was  confined  to  hamlets  and  villages  and  had  no 
great  splendor.  We  need  not  attach  much  importance  to  it.  At 
the  city  Dionysia,  tragedy  was  given  the  first  rank,  comedy  being 
relegated  to  the  second.  On  the  contrary,  tlie  Lenoean  festival  was 
properly  tliat  of  comedy,  almost  all  the  extant  plays  of  Aristophanes 
being  brought  before  the  public  on  the  occasions  of  this  festival. 

What  has  been  said  respecting  the  institution  called  choregia 
and  the  i)art  of  the  archon  relative  to  tragedy,  applies  to  comedy  as 
well.  The  j^0£ls  who  took  jtart  in  the  competitions  were  likewise 
three  in  luiniber;  yet  each  of  them  brought  out  only  a  single.4)lay. 

The  material  equipment  of  the  theatre  scejus  to  have  been  the 

same.     But  as  comic  ])ersonages  could  be  placed  in  a  wider  range 

of  localities,  the  scenic  representations  made  greater  demands   on 

the  imagination  of  the  spectators.     The  action  was  shifted  from  the 

1  See  foot-note,  p.  172. 


Beginnings  of  Comedy  241 

city  to  the  country,  from  the  earth  to  the  sky,  probably  without 
necessitating  any  change  in  the  scenery.  Fantasy,  accordingly, 
could  set  up  its  claims  and  no  one  thought  of  disputing  them. 

The  comic  chorus  was  more  numerous  than  that  of  tragedy.  It 
had  twenlji-fUUf  ellUl'ym(i&,' Instead  or'^Wg^CT^5rfifteen.  Disguised 
to  suit  the  poel's  fancy,  without  regard  ior  plausibility,  these  pre- 
sented themselves  in  striped  costumes  adorned  with  characteristic 
ornaments.  We  have  mentioned  the  inventtCTns  of  Magnes ;  they 
took  for  granted  an  appropriate  stage  setting.  In  Cratinus,  each 
member  of  the  chorus  assumed  the  guise  of  Archilochus,  of  the 
centaur,  or  of  Argos,  whose  body  was  covered  with  wide-open  eyes ; 
in  Aristophanes,  the  chorus  represented  Acharnians,  Knights,  Baby- 
lonians, Clouds,  Laborers,  Women,  Islands,  Wasps ;  in  Eupolis  they 
represented  Demes,  etc.  We  are  not  thoroughly  informed  as  to  the 
detail  of  these  grotesque  costumes  ;  in  general,  they  could  not  have 
been  very  complicated.  The  Clouds  of  Aristophanes  were  recog- 
nized much  less  by  their  long,  multi-colored,  floating  robes,  than  by 
their  words  and  songs.  The  Wasps  had  no  other  insignia  than  the 
taper  of  their  form  and  the  sting  that  they  dragged  behind  them. 
It  was  necessary  to  make  the  scene  impressive  by  some  amusing 
emblem.  The  very  simplicity  of  these  absurd  inventions  was  part 
of  their  merit.  Like  the  costume,  the  mask  of  the  comic  choreutes 
incited  laughter.  As  a  characteristic  detail,  we  may  cite  the  fact, 
noted  by  a  scholiast,  that  the  Clouds  of  Aristophanes  wore  long 
noses.  We  shall  speak  further  on  of  comic  choral  odes.  The  or- 
dinary dance  was  the  cordax  {Kopha^),  resembling  the  Spanish  sara- 
band, violent  and  disorderly,  even  obscene,  characterized  principally 
by  its  waddling  motion  and  its  bounds.  The  choreutes  executed 
a  thousand  evolutions,  rhythmic  marches,  gambols,  formations  in 
file,  and  leaps  of  every  sort,  varying  naturally  with  the  needs  of  the 
l)lay,  and  the  poet's  fancy. 

The  actors  were,  by  rule  at  least,  three  in  number,  as  in  tragedy ; 
but  while  the  rule  was  stg-ictly  ol)served  in  tragedy,  coniedy-Siefaiis 
to  have  .beeu.freer. '  Supplementary  roles,  or  ixirachoregemas,  cex- 
tainly  were  much  more  frequent.  The  costume  of  the  comic  actors 
admitted  a  variety  and  extravagance  liarmonizing  with  that  of  the 
situations  and  personages  represented.  As  in  the  case  of  the  chorus, 
tlie  tight-fitting,  or  the  swaddling,  costume,  with  its  party-colors, 
was  the  principal  garment.  I>y  means  of  cushions  the  figures  were 
made  to  take  on  a  ridiculous  and  even  grotesque  form.  The  under 
garments,  tunics,  and  mantles  to  some  extent  marked  the  rank  and 
manner  of  life  of  the  j)ersonages  according  to  conventions  then  in 
vogue,  but  always  with   that  play  of   fancy  which  was  one  of  the 


242  Greek  Literature 

necessities  of  comedy.  For  certain  roles  at  least,  the  poet  could  not 
fail  to  design  at  pleasure  the  garb  of  his  actor,  in  collaboration  with 
the  outfitter.  In  general  the  material  was  striped  and  the  colors 
gaudy  and  fantastic,  as  coming  from  the  Dionysiac  cult.  The  mask  of 
the  comic  actors  varied  considerably  with  the  comedy.  In  the  fifth 
century,  when  this  did  not  yet  represent  types  of  men  as  it  did  later, 
the  masks  sometimes  reproduced  more  or  less  strikingly  the  features 
of  public  men.  ^lore  often,  they  were  simply  grotesque.  The  Birds 
of  Aristophanes  had  beaks  so  enormous  that  the  actor  who  played 
Euelpidus  burst  into  laughter  on  seeing  tliem  ;  and  when  the  Herald 
in  the  Acharnians  solemnly  announct-d  Pseudartabas,  "the  King's 
Eye,"  there  appeared  a  sombre  personage  with  an  enormous  eye 
that  hid  his  entire  visage. 

6.  Structure  of  Comedy.^ — Comedy  in  the  time  of  Aristophanes 
had,  like  tragedy,  a  normal  structure  that  varied  little  from  one  play 
to  the  other.  It  resulted  in  part  from  the  origins  of  the  type,  in 
part  from  the  studied  efforts  of  the  poets  to  transform  it  into  a  work 
of  art.  This  led  to  a  greater  complexity  in  the  division  and  group- 
ing of  the  parts. 

A  comic  play  begins  with  a  prologue,  a  preliminary  dialogue  pre- 
ceding the  entrance  of  the  chorus  and  serving  to  set  forth  the  sit- 
uation. ^The  situation,  as  we  shall  see,  almost  always  implies  a 
proposition,  political  or  moral,  which  the  ])lay  is  to  demonstrate^ 

After  the  prologue  come,  as  in  tragedy,  various  episodes  sepa- 
rated from  one  another  by  choral  chants.  IJut  the  division,  though 
essential  in  tragedy,  was  much  less  important  and  much  more  ca- 
pricious in  comedy,  where  the  different  parts  of  the  same  episode 
were  often  very  unlike  one  another.  Tlie  relative  independence  of 
the  scenes  recalled  the  epoch  when  oomedy  was  only  a  series  of 
droll  dialogues,  succeeding  one  another  witliout  connection.  Some- 
times in  the  structure  of  the  scenes  one  finds  forms  that  are  evidently 
traditional.  One  of  the  most  curious  is  that  of  the  "combat  of 
words  "  found  in  most  of  the  plays  of  Aristophanes.  Two  adver- 
saries maintain  contrary  theses;  the  chorus  spurs  each  one  on  and 
each  speaks  in  turn  ;  then  a  judge,  ordinarily  the  coryphaeus,  decides 
whicli  of  the  two  has  won.  It  is  a  dispute,  but  governed  by  rules,  a 
contest  in  true  Greek  fashion,  with  judges  and  a  victor.  The  variety 
of  the  rhythm  brings  out  in  each  episode  the  real  character  of  the 
successive  scenes.     I>esides  iambic  trimeter,  comedy  still  has  at  its 

1  rnn-ult  :  Zicliiiski.  Die  GUfihrunri  dfr  aUntlixrhcn  Knmodie,  Leipsic.  1*^74  ; 
H.  Wfil.  Ktu/l's  s>tr  Ic  drnmc  anti'/ni'.  sup.rit.;  Muff.  Ufher  den  Vnrtrn'j  dfr 
rhnrisrh''n  Pnrtifn  hei  Arisfophan^-s.  Halle.  1872  ;  Arnoldt,  Die  Chorpartien 
hti  Aristophaneti  scenisrh  erldutert.  Leipsic,  187;j. 


Beginnings  of  Comedy  243 

disposal  in  the  dialogue  iambic  tetrameter,  anapests,  trochees,  and 
anapestic  dimeter.  This  gives  the  conversation  between  the  charac- 
ters a  very  unique  variety  of  movement.  Besides,  the  metre  of 
comedy  is  much  less  strict  than  that  of  tragedy.  Poetry  was  per- 
mitted by  many  licenses  to  assume  forms  like  those  of  prose ;  and 
its  doing  so  even  afforded  pleasure. 

But  what  chiefly  distinguished  the  structure  of  comedy  from  that 
of  tragedy  was  the  character  of  the  choral  odes,  parodos,  parabasis, 
and  interludes. 

In  the  comedy  of  Aristophanes,  the  parodos  is  a  passage  as  much 
dramatic  as  lyric  —  a  mixture  of  song,  recitation,  and  simple  dialogue. 
It  always  admits  of  lively  animation ;  and,  if  occasion  offers,  this 
even  becomes  turbulent.  Therefore,  instead  of  being  a  sort  of  inter- 
lude between  the  prologue  and  the  first  episode,  it  marks  rather  a 
reenforceuieut  of  the  initial  impulse  —  accelerated  motion  after  the 
first  few  scenes.  It  is  connected  most  intimately  with  the  following 
scenes ;  and  these,  in  general,  participate  in  its  nature. 

The  parabasis  is  a  group  of  songs  and  spoken  passages,  belonging 
strictly  to  the  comedy  of  the  fifth  century.^  At  the  end  of  the  first 
episode — which  we  should  style  the  second  act,  counting  the  pro- 
logue as  the  first  —  the  rear  of  the  orchestra  was  vacant  after  the 
exit  of  the  actors,  and  the  choreutes,  who  were  grouped  in  the  fore- 
ground, took  off  their  mantles,  faced  about  toward  the  audience,  and 
advanced  a  few  paces.  The  name  "  parabasis  "  properly  designates 
this  forward  movement,  but  it  came  to  be  applied  to  the  whole  scene 
that  followed.  A  complete  parabasis  includes  seven  distinct  parts : 
the  principal  one  was  a  discourse  of  the  coryplueus  to  the  public, 
called  the  "  anapests  "  on  account  of  the  rhytlun  ordinarily  emplo}-ed. 
It  was  preceded  by  a  very  short  song,  the  KOfi/xaTLov ;  and  ended  in  a 
long  period  recited  all  in  one  breath,  which  was  called  the  long  sen- 
tence (fjaKpov),  or  the  choker  (Trnyo?).  To  this  group  of  three  parts 
succeeded  a  second,  composed  of  four  symmetrical  passages ;  namely, 
a  lyric  strophe  and  antistrophe,  the  first  followed  by  a  recited  couplet 
called  "  e])irrhema,"  the  second  by  another  couplet  in  the  same  metre 
called  "  antepirrhema."  The  parabasis  is  found  complete  only  in  the 
earliest  of  Aristophanes's  plays.  In  the  later  ones  it  lacks  certain 
members  ;  and  finally  it  disappears  altogether.  Besides  the  parabasis 
proper,  some  of  the  old  plays  included,  after  the  third  or  fourth 
e])isode,  a  passage  analogous  in  structure  to  the  second  part  of  the 
parabasis. 

We  need  not  state  and  discuss  the  various  opinions  put  forth  upon 
the  origin  and  nature  of  this  curious  element  of  comedy.  However, 
1  J.  Combarieu,  De  Farabaseos  Partibus  et  Origine,  Paris,  189(). 


244  Greek  Literature 

the  discourse  of  the  coryphaeus  seems  to  be  the  relic  of  a  primitive 
prologue,  done  away  with  in  the  course  of  the  transformations  of 
comedy ;  and  the  epirrhema  probably  represents  a  form  of  interlude 
peculiar  to  the  type  of  composition. 

There  were  other  interludes  of  less  importance  that  served  to 
separate  the  episodes  when  the  separation  was  not  otherwise  suffi- 
ciently marked.  They  were,  in  general,  rather  short  songs,  compris- 
ing at  most  two  strophes  and  antistrophes,  which  were  almost  always 
light  and  satiric  in  tone.  All  the  capricious  spontaneity  of  primitive 
comedy  was  revived  in  these  brief  compositions,  rapid  and  gay,  a 
charming  relic  of  the  rustic  comos,  whose  unrestrained  boldness  and 
unexpected  wit  they  retained. 

All  these  facts  show  that  the  connection  of  the  parts  in  comedy 
and  tragedy  is  very  different.  The  tragic  stasima  mark  so  many 
pauses  in  the  action,  all  about  equally  important.  In  comedy,  there 
is  only  one  real  pause,  or  at  most  two,  that  of  the  parabasis  and 
that  of  the  epirrhematic  chants.  Aside  from  these,  the  separations 
are  so  slight  as  hardly  to  be  noticed.  The  reason  for  the  difference, 
as  we  shall  see,  lies  in  the  very  nature  of  comic  action. 

7.  Nature  of  the  Action  and  of  the  Personages  in  the  Comedy  of  the 
Fifth  Century.  Its  Spirit.  Definition  of  the  So-called  Old  Comedy.  Its 
Language. — For  a  poet  of  the  fifth  century  to  conceive  the  plot  of 
a  comedy  was  to  imagine  a  droll  situation  which  should  also  be  a 
satire.  The  story  needed  to  be  very  simple,  for  it  was  really  a 
mere  pretext.  Absolutely,  it  needed  to  be  amusing;  hence  there 
must  be  in  it,  above  all,  animation  and  movement.  The  first  gift  of 
the  comic  poet  was  the  gift  of  invention.  He  must  invent  a  leading 
situation,  actions  at  law,  quarrels,  fantastic  journeys,  phantoms  of 
the  dead,  creations  of  imaginary  cities,  conspiracies,  and  finally 
something  to  support  all  this.  The  support  must  be  not  only  gay,  but 
novel.  The  difficulty  was  great ;  for  the  types  of  comic  action  were 
not  infinite  in  number.  Repetitions  were  inevitably  made,  and  com- 
petitors copied  from  each  other  without  permission,  and  afterwards 
mutually  accused  each  other  of  plagiarism.  The  ever  increasing 
ditHculty  of  departing  from  the  beaten  track  was  doubtless  one  of 
the  causes  leading  to  the  early  exhaustion  of  the  type. 

On  such  a  general  framework,  the  ])oet  needed  to  attach  as  great  a 
number  of  pleasing  incidents  as  possible.  No  one  wrangled  with  him 
about  the  probability  of  his  action.  If  only  he  could  raise  a  laugh, 
every  license  was  granted  him.  Unity  of  place  and  time  were  not  so 
construed  as  to  hamper  his  fancy.  He  could,  if  he  chose,  conceive 
his  lieroes  in  the  sky,  lead  them  by  unknown  paths  to  a  city  of  the 
birds  between  heaven  and  earth,  transport  them  to   Hades,  or  call 


Beginnings  of  Comedy  245 

clouds  into  the  orchestra.  His  liberty  was  almost  absolute,  but  the 
spectators  understood  that  he  should  use  it  to  ainuse  them.  They 
wished  for  scenes  succeeding  one  another  rapidly  and  in  the  variety 
of  a  phantasmagoria  continually  renewed. 

So  much  for  the  plot  strictly  speaking:  but  this,  as  we  have 
said,  was  also  a  satire,  and  almost  always  a  demonstration  in  dra- 
matic form.  Plot  and  demonstration,  intimately  united  or  rather 
identified  with  one  another,  progressed  naturally  together  and 
generally  helped  each  other  along.  We  shall  refer  to  this  matter 
again  in  speaking  of  Aristophanes.  Let  us  note  now  a  usual,  but 
a  characteristic,  fact.  Often  the  dramatic  combinations  were  pro- 
duced by  preference  at  the  beginning  of  the  play,  because  the  poet 
needed  to  organize  his  plot  there,  whereas  in  the  sequel  the  scenes 
succeeded  each  other  rapidly  without  being  inherently  connected. 
When  there  is  a  plot  in  comedy,  it  is  sometimes  resolved  in  the 
middle  of  the  play.  Besides,  it  is  the  demonstration  which,  in  the 
form  of  scenes  added  to  one  another,  sustains  the  action  and  makes 
it  advance.  For  example,  if  the  poet  is  discussing  the  advantages  of 
peace,  the  characters  who  cannot  appreciate  these  are  converted  after 
the  first  act ;  thenceforth  the  poet  needs  only  to  make  the  advantages 
evident  to  the  spectators  by  a  series  of  descriptions  or  amusing 
dialogues.  It  is  evident  that  the  structure  of  such  plays  cannot  but 
be  somewhat  lax. 

The  personages  are  in  harmony  with  the  action.  They  are  above 
all  buffoons,  and  the  revels  of  a  carnival  have  possession  of  them. 
It  is  true,  we  shall  see  later  what  human  reality  Aristophanes  was 
often  able  to  put  into  these  extravagant  figures ;  it  can  hardly  be 
doubted  that  the  other  great  comic  poets  of  the  time  also  succeeded 
in  doing  this  to  some  extent.  But  in  a  general  account,  this  is  not 
the  thing  to  which  we  must  call  attention.  In  comic  personages,  the 
sentiments  of  man's  character  are  for  the  most  part  concealed  by 
the  very  nature  of  comedy.  All  that  is  serious,  deep,  profound,  is 
foreign  to  them.  They  may  not  display  affection,  generosity,  con- 
science ;  they  lack  modesty  and  every  kind  of  delicate  feeling  ;  they 
have,  as  it  were,  certain  phases  of  reason  rather  than  reason  in  com- 
pleteness ;  they  are  always  half-witted,  mingling  with  the  ideas  of 
mature  men  the  whims  of  children  and  the  extravagances  of  imbe- 
ciles. What  is  more,  the  natiire  of  the  action  prevents  the  poet 
from  developing  a  character.  To  the  incoherence  of  the  events  must 
correspond  that  of  the  beings  whose  life  they  form.  Hence,  if  they 
do  have  a  trace  of  character,  they  forget  it  immediately  for  the 
simple  pleasure  of  turning  off  a  witticism.  There  is  nothing  solid 
or  consistent  in  them. 


246  Greek  Literature 

The  comic  chorus  is  conceived  with  still  freer  fancy.  The  poet 
makes  it  anything  he  wishes.  He  transforms  it  into  birds,  frogs, 
insects,  clouds,  wasps,  demes,  islands.  But  the  transformation  is 
almost  always  by  design  light  and  superficial.  Prolonged  pleasantry 
would  become  unendurable.  The  costumes  are  designed  chiefly  in 
view  of  the  entrance  into  the  orchestra.  They  mark  amusingly  the 
dominant  character  which  the  poet  wishes  to  assign  to  the  chorus  — 
its  inconsistency,  its  aggressive  humor ;  or  else  the  dominant  relation 
existing  between  its  members  and  some  of  the  characters.  Thus 
they  determine  the  general  nature  of  its  role.  The  Wasps  of  Aris- 
tophanes, once  introduced,  are  no  longer  wasps  except  in  memory. 
His  Clouds,  though  mere  vapors  when  Socrates  invokes  them,  become 
in  the  course  of  the  action  very  sage  persons,  in  whom,  however, 
reason  does  not  make  impossible  a  certain  mischief.  In  these 
dramas,  so  capricious  in  their  variations,  inconstancy  is  both  a 
necessity  and  a  merit. 

Thus  constructed,  the  Athenian  comedy  of  the  fifth  century  is  a 
dramatized  polemic.  Its  spirit  is  above  all  one  of  opposition  to  in- 
novations. The  ridiculous  side  of  old  customs  is  so  habitually 
minimized  as  hardly  to  be  noticeable ;  and  new  practices,  though  not 
ridiculous  in  themselves,  are  almost  always  turned  to  ridicule  and 
made  to  raise  a  laugh.  A  secret  instinct  impels  comedy  to  attack 
them.  Hence  it  is  hostile  to  the  sophists,  philosophic  study,  luxury, 
and  the  amelioration  of  the  material  conditions  of  life.  It  is  hostile 
also  to  dramatic  innovations,  particularly  those  of  Euripides,  and 
to  innovations  in  music.  In  politics,  it  inveighs  against  those  who 
govern,  the  men  of  the  day,  because  they  are  clearly  in  sight,  and 
their  defects  are  brought  out  by  the  public  exercise  of  power.  Thus 
it  flatters  the  malignity  of  the  public.  As  its  representations  are 
made  in  a  democracy,  and  it  attacks  the  rulers,  it  has  the  air  some- 
times of  attacking  democratic  institutions  themselves.  Really,  it 
has  no  such  profound  purpose.  Its  great  business  is  to  amuse,  and 
we  must  always  guard  against  imputing  to  it  intentions  that  con- 
temporaries never  would  have  observed.  Yet  we  must  not  deny 
that  the  satire,  though  directed  against  persons,  when  managed  by 
men  of  bold  philosophic  spirit,  often  necessarily  gives  rise  to  ideas 
not  included  in  its  immediate  aims.  Hence  the  comedy  of  the  fifth 
century,  however  foolish  and  fantastic  in  appearance,  shows  perhaps 
more  than  any  other  dramatic  type  the  liking  of  the  Greeks  for  gen- 
eral ideas.  The  spirit  of  comedy  is  on  every  occasion  at  the  service 
of  a  practical  theme. 

This  comedy  continued  with  the  characteristics  we  have  noted  till 
the  beginning  of  the  fourth  century.     At  that  time  it  was  called  the 


Beginnings  of  Coniedy  247 

Old  Comedy,  to  distinguish  it  from  other  forms  of  comic  poetry,  quite 
different  in  character,  that  appeared  in  the  fourth  century. 

Its  language  was  no  less  original  than  its  structure  and  spirit. 
"  The  Old  Comedy,"  says  Quintilian,  "  is  almost  the  only  kind  that 
preserves  in  its  purity  the  native  grace  of  spoken  Attic.  Moreover, 
its  language  is  franker,  striking  in  its  censure  of  vice,  and  full  of 
force  in  the  other  elements  of  its  composition.  Grandeur,  elegance, 
and  natural  charm  are  its  characteristics."  ^  Perhaps  the  author  of 
this  judgiiieitii^iS  not  take  sufficiently  into  account  the  variety  of  tone 
permissible  in  comedy.  Light,  affected,  and  satirical  in  certain  parts, 
which  are  genuine  street  songs,  its  language  sometimes  has  brilliance, 
gravity,  and  even  grandeur.  When  it  parodies  tragedy  or  dithyramb, 
it  borrows  their  pompous  language  to  turn  them  into  ridicule.  But 
these  are  exceptional  cases.  Its  ordinary  mode  of  expression  is  that 
which  the  Roman  critic  noted.  Its  foundation  is  the  purest  Attic ; 
and  this  appears  in  a  familiar,  even  popular  form,  which  distinguishes 
it  from  that  of  tragedy,  or  that  found  in  the  Socratic  dialogues. 
There  is  no  display,  no  irksome  expediency,  no  thought  of  formal 
manners ;  only  admirable  ease,  relaxation,  simplicity,  fine  grace,  and 
the  most  open-hearted  frankness.  Everything  is  named  without 
reserve,  whatever  its  nature;  and  so  there  is  a  whole  vocabulary 
coming  from  the  wharf  or  the  market  —  insults,  spicy  language,  in- 
decencies ;  but  with  it  a  thousand  happy  turns,  a  thousand  descriptive 
epithets,  and  vivid  phrases  not  at  all  savoring  of  the  schools,  with  polite 
epithets  of  conversation  tossed  off  recklessly  and  as  if  by  chance.  It  > 
is  the  language  of  the  Agora  or  of  the  Piraeus,  but  more  delicate, 
quick,  elegant  —  perfected  in  its  genius  by  the  spirits  of  culture. 

On  this  foundation  the  creative  power  of  the  poets  was  set  to 
work.  They  borrowed  from  the  old  iambic  writers  or  from  popular 
songs,  and  when  they  saw  fit,  created  new  words  after  the  old 
models.  These  are  infinitely  varied  in  form:  long  compounds  in 
which  are  cleverly  mingled  a  whole  medley  of  ideas,  together  with 
unwonted  derivatives,  forms  obtained  by  absurd  analogies,  puns 
similarly  obtained,  and  all  that  the  wish  to  excite  laughter  could 
suggest  to  alert  minds  whom  no  scruple  of  decency  or  propriety  held 
in  clieck. 

These  general  features  of  the  Old  Comedy  are  found  united  in 
the  works  of  the  only  representative  of  it  that  we  really  know,  namely, 
Aristophanes.  It  will  be  easier  to  understand  and  appreciate  him, 
now  that  we  have  seen  what  precedents  governed  his  composition. 

1  Inst.  Or.  X,  1,  66. 


) 


CHAPTER    XV 

ARISTOPHANES  AND  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

1.    Life  of  Aristophanes,  and  his  Works.     The  Extant  Plays.     2.  His  General 
Tendencies.      His  Views :    Political,   Social,  and  Literary.     His  Religion. 

3.  His  Dramatic  Invention.     His  Subjects.     His  Idea  of  Dramatic  Action. 

4.  The  Characters  :  their  Double  Nature,  Ideal  and  Real.  5.  His  Lyric 
Passages.  His  Language.  6.  Contemporaries  of  Aristophanes.  Eupolis. 
End  of  Old  Comedy. 

1.  Life  of  Aristophanes,  and  his  Works.  The  Extant  Plays.  ^  — 
The  work  of  Aristophanes  is  fairly  well  known,  but  not  his  person- 
ality, except  for  the  declarations  that  he  gave  the  public  in  his  pa- 
rabases.  The  only  events  of  his  life,  however,  seem  to  have  been  the 
production  of  his  dramas.  Hence  it  is  impossible  to  separate  the 
biography  of  the  poet  from  the  account  of  his  Avorks. 

He  was  born  about  450,  and  his  parents  were  free-born  Athenians, 
possessors  of  a  small  estate  at  ^Egina,  which  they  managed  as  cleruchs. 
Aristophanes  was  a  talented  youth.  AVhile  still  very  young  he 
brought  out,  in  427,  his  first  play,  now  lost,  the  Banqueters  of  Hera- 
cles (AaiTuX^s),  which  won  the  second  prize.  Already  a  moralist  and 
a  sharp  critic  of  the  new  tendencies,  he  followed  the  fashion  of  the 
day  in  making  his  plays  educational.  The  next  year,  in  426,  in 
another  play  now  lost,  the  Babylonians,  with  true  juvenile  audacity, 

1  Editions  :  Bekker,  5  vols.,  with  Latin  notes  and  translation,  London, 
1820  ;  G.  Dindorf,  Aristoplianis  Comoediae,  with  fratrments,  excursus,  notes, 
and  scholia,  4  vols.,  Oxford,  18:35-1839  ;  Bergk,  Arislophanis  Comcedias,  2  vols., 
Leipsic,  Teubner,  1852  and  1872  ;  Meineke,  Leipsic,  1860  ;  Blaydes,  Arislo- 
phanis Comcedice,  with  notes  and  the  scholia,  12  vols.,  Halle,  1880-1899;  von 
V'elseii  u.  Zacher,  Aristophanis  Commdice.  Leipsic,  1809-1897.  Dindorf's  text, 
with  a  Latin  translation,  is  found  in  the  Didot  Collection,  Arislophanis  Comce- 
dia;.  Paris,  1839,  in  a  volume  containing  also  tlie  fragments;  the  scholia  form  a 
separate  volume.  Th.  Kock,  Ansgevcdhlle  Komodien  des  Aristophanes,  with 
introduction  and  notes,  Berlin,  1876. 

BioGUAi'iiiKS  AM)  Ancient  Testimony:  The  anonymous  Livrs  collected 
at  the  beginning  of  the  Didot  edition  of  the  Scholia  Grcecn  in  Arislophanem. 

Translations:  French  prose,  by  Poyard,  Paris,  1898;  and  by  Brotier, 
2  vols.,  Paris,  1898.  Engli.sh  translation  of  six  plays,  by  B.  B.  Rogers,  London, 
1852-1902.  The  Works  of  Aristophaufs,  by  J.  II.  Frere,  2d  ed..  New  York, 
1874. 

Consult :  The  works  mentioned,  p.  229  ;  the  article  Aristophanes  in  Pauiy- 
Wissowa,  litalenryrlopddif  ;  Deschanel,  I^tndfs  sur  Aristophane,  Paris,  1867  ; 
Th.  Kock,  Aristophanrs  <ils  Dichter  und  F'olitiker.  in  liheinisches  Museum.  39, 
1884,  p.  119  ff.  ;  Miiller-Striibing,  Aristophanes  und  die  historische  Krilik, 
Leipsic,  1873. 

248 


Aristophayies  and  his  Contemporaries  249 

he  attacked  the  demagogues,  and  particularly  Cleon.  This  brought 
on  him  an  exciting  lawsuit,  from  which  he  appears  to  have  come  off 
victorious.  He  was,  however,  neither  intimidated  nor  discouraged. 
In  425  he  presented  the  Acharnians,  the  oldest  of  his  extant  come- 
dies, which,  though  in  C(5?HpetitlCS"with  Cratinus  and  Eupolis,  raised 
him  to  the  first  rank.  In  it  he  represents  a  sturdy  peasant,  Dicaeopo- 
lis,  whom  the  war  has  forced  to  leave  his  estate  and  take  refuge  in 
the  city.  The  good  fellow  wants  peace  at  any  price,  and  as  he  is 
the  only  one  who  wants  it,  he  concludes  a  treaty  on  his  own  behalf. 
The  charcoal-burners  of  Acharnae,  who  form  the  chorus,  hasten  to 
attack  the  traitor;  but  he  succeeds  in  convincing  them  that  he  is 
right.  Then,  in  a  series  of  joyous  scenes,  we  see  him  reaping  the 
benefits  of  peace,  buying,  selling,  and  making  merry,  whereas  the 
others  suffer  from  hunger  and  the  miseries  of  war.  The  play  is  ex- 
cellent from  end  to  end  because  of  the  gayety  of  its  invention,  its 
movement,  its  surprises,  the  renewal  of  its  interest,  and  the  poetic 
hardihood  manifest  at  every  instant. 

Aristophanes  brought  out  these  first  plays  with  the  collaboration 
of  a  certain  Callistratus,  who  undertook  to  make  ready  for  the  repre- 
sentation and  direct  it.  There  is  reason  to  believe,  however,  that 
Aristophanes  did  not  conceal  his  own  authorship.  It  seems  reason- 
able to  interpret  thus  a  rather  obscure  fact,  which  he  himself  attests ; 
namely  that,  to  the  end  of  his  life,  he  was  accustomed  frequently 
to  employ  either  this  same  Callistratus  or  another  man  —  a  certain 
Philonides. 

But  in  424  he  himself  took  charge  of  the  representation  of  the 
Knights,  the  most  violent  attack  he  had  made  against  the  demagogue 
Cleon.  Cleon  had  just  won  an  unexpected  victory  at  Sphacteria. 
Notwithstanding  this,  the  young  poet  did  not  hesitate  to  turn  to 
ridicule  the  favor  Cleon  was  enjoying  with  the  people.  The  Athe- 
nians laughed  not  only  at  their  favorite,  but  also  at  themselves ; 
and  the  play  was  a  success.  Under  the  name  of  Demos,  he  personi- 
fied the  people,  in  whose  hands  all  power  was  vested ;  credulous  old 
Demos  was  being  duped  by  those  who  flattered  him.  He  disgraced 
his  faithful  servants,  in  whom  we  recognize  Nicias  and  Demosthenes, 
and  substituted  for  them  a  cozening  Paphlagonian,  who  while  prey- 
ing upon  him  pretends  to  be  devoted  to  him.  The  rascal,  of  course, 
is  Cleon.  The  disgraced  servants  attempt  to  raise  a  rival  to  the 
old  man's  favorite  in  the  person  of  the  sausage-seller  Agoracritus. 
Impudent,  ignorant,  brawling,  he  finally  supplants  Cleon  by  the  use 
of  the  same  means  that  Cleon  used.  Demos,  restored  to  reason, 
regains  his  youth  with  his  senses.  The  strife  of  Agoracritus  against 
Cleon  forms  the  subject  of  the  drama.     It  has  not  the  gayety  nor 


250  Greek  Literature 

the  rustic  grace  of  the  Achamians,  yet  atones  for  this  with  a  satiric 
and  comic  force  not  found  so  fully  in  any  other  play.  The  Athenian 
judges  assigned  it  the  first  prize. 

The  next  year,  423,  Aristophanes,  again  taking  up  the  theme 
treated  in  his  Babylonians,  satirized,  in  the  Cloud&f  the  sophists  and 
the  new  education.  Strepsiades,  a  humble  peasant,  laborious  and 
thrifty,  has  a  prodigal  son  who  cannot  pay  his  debts.  The  father 
is  eager  to  leai-n  rhetoric,  which  he  regards  as  the  art  of  eluding  his 
creditors  by  deceiving  the  judges.  This  art  is  typified  in  Socrates, 
who  is  transformed  for  the  occasion  into  a  charlatan.  But  Strep- 
siades is  too  thick-headed  to  understand  the  lesson  that  he  receives ; 
and  so  he  sends  his  son  to  study  in  his  place.  The  son,  Phidippides, 
when  educated,  mocks  at  and  beats  his  father  —  such  are  the  fruits 
of  this  much-lauded  education.  Strepsiades,  converted  and  furious, 
sets  fire  to  Socrates's  school.  The  Clouds,  who  give  their  name  to 
the  play  and  form  its  chorus,  represent  the  mazes  before  which  phi- 
losophers bow  in  worship.  The  play  obtained  only  the  third  prize. 
The  author,  more  surprised  than  discouraged,  rewrote  it,  but  does 
not  seem  to  have  presented  it  again.  The  second  edition  is  what 
we  possess.  The  role  of  Strepsiades  is  excellent,  giving  the  chief 
value  to  the  drama.  That  of  Socrates  is  only  a  gross  slander ;  and 
though  amusing,  its  injustice  is  offensive.  It  shows  at  least  how 
far  contemporary  opinion  was  deceived  by  appearances  in  appreci- 
ating the  great  man.  If  the  comedy  did  not  contribute  directly 
to  his  condemnation  twenty-five  years  after,  it  would  be  rash  to 
assert  that  it  did  not  make  ready  for  it  indirectly  by  the  false,  odious 
image  it  created  and  kept  alive  in  the  public  mind. 

The  ^Vas2)s,  played  in  422,  seems  to  liave  had  a  less  general  aim. 
Aristophanes  in  this  play  derides  the  mania  for  lawsuits  that  had 
taken  possession  of  the  Athenians;  but  behind  the  somewhat  thin 
veil,  he  sees  and  discloses  the  policy  of  the  demagogues,  who  turn 
the  leisure  time  of  the  people  and  the  worst  elements  in  its  disposi- 
tion to  their  own  account.  It  is  really  still  Cleon  who  is  being  cen- 
sured. An  old  man  named  Philocleon  is  madly  fond  of  lawsuits ; 
around  him  buzzes  the  chorus  of  Wasps,  representing  the  old  heli- 
asta  wliose  sting  is  always  threatening  and  who  promote  and  profit 
by  his  folly.  His  son  l^delycleon  undertakes  to  correct  him.  This 
difficult  undertaking  constitutes  the  real  action  of  the  play.  Philo- 
cleon and  his  associates  are  finally  converted.  After  that,  the  old 
man,  free  from  the  trouble  of  sitting  in  court,  leads  a  joyous  life. 
The  i>lay  is  vividly  develo})ed,  full  of  spirit  and  of  amusing  inci- 
dents. It  suggested  to  Racine  some  of  the  most  successful  portions 
of  his  Plaideurs. 


Aristophanes  and  his  Contemporaries  251 

The  Peace,  brought  out  in  421,  was  later  rewritten.  We  have 
only  the  first  edition.  The  subject  is  the  same  as  that  of  the  Achar- 
nia7is,  but  the  form  is  much  inferior.  The  vine-dresser  Trygaeus, 
weary  of  the  war,  mounts  to  Olympus  on  the  back  of  a  horned  beetle 
and  brings  back  Peace,  whom  he  induces  to  dwell  in  his  home,  not- 
withstanding the  opposition  of  certain  lunatics.  The  action  is  unin- 
teresting, and  grows  cold  beneath  the  allegory.  But  the  play  is  full 
of  choice  passages,  all  animate  with  the  poetic  charm  of  the  country. 
Between  424  and  421  appeared  also  two  lost  plays,  the  Laborers  and 
the  Merchant  Vessels,  in  which  the  poet  pleaded  for  the  cessation  of 
hostilities. 

From  421  to  414  there  is  a  lacuna  in  the  chronological  series  of 
his  works  ;  but  we  have  no  reason  to  believe  that  he  maintained 
silence  during  this  period.  The  years  must  have  been  occupied 
with  plays  that  have  not  been  transmitted  to  us.  The  series  begins 
again  in  414  with  the  Amphiaraiis,  of  which,  however,  nothing  is 
extant ;  and  tjie  Birds,  which  has  been  preserved.  In  this  second 
group  of  plays  the  satire  is  generally  less  harsh  and,  above  all,  less 
personal. 

The  Birds  is  a  charming  fantasy  mingled  with  satire,  but  with- 
out any  marked  general  purpose.  Two  Athenians,  Pithetaerus  and 
Euelpidus,  weary  of  living  in  a  city  where  the  courts  are  in  session 
from  morning  to  night,  go  away  to  find  the  birds,  make  an  agree- 
ment with  them,  and  induce  them  to  build  a  new  city  between 
heaven  and  earth,  called  Nephelococcygia.  The  intriguers  down 
below  would  fain  win  admission,  but  are  driven  away  with  clubs. 
The  gods  try  unsuccessfully  to  govern  the  city ;  negotiations  are 
entered  into,  and  finally  Pithetaerus  assigns  himself  the  kingdom, 
despite  the  claims  of  Zeus.  All  this  is  daring  invention,  as  poetic  as 
it  is  capricious  and  ingenious.  The  moral  purpose,  if  there  is  one, 
consists  chiefly  in  unmasking  certain  impostors  and  charlatans  ;  but 
the  poet  seems  to  aim  rather  at  amusing  than  at  instructing  his 
public. 

V  Two  5'ears  later,  in  411,  the  Lysistrata  was  brought  out,  and  also 
the  Thesmophoriazusoi  (&e.(Tfxo<f>opLd(ovaaL).  in  the  former,  the  poet 
once  more  pleaded  against  the  war.  This  time  the  women  de- 
manded peace,  or  rather  forced  it  by  abandoning  their  husbands. 
The  conspiracy  is  led  by  Lysistrata,  who  gives  her  name  to  the 
comedy.  No  other  of  the  poet's  plays  is  so  bold  in  plot  or  incident, 
yet  in  no  other  is  the  action  better  managed.  The  aim  of  the  Tlies- 
mophoriazti.sa',  is  to  turn  Euripides  into  ridicule.  By  his  attacks 
against  women,  the  tragic  poet  is  sup])osed  to  have  offended  them 
greatly.     To  spy  out  and  amuse  himself  with  their  discussions,  his 


^ 


252  Greek  Literature 

father-in-law,  Mnesilochus,  disguised  as  a  woman,  slips  in  among  the 
women  of  Athens,  who  are  celebrating  the  festival  of  Demeter. 
There  he  meets  with  countless  dangers,  from  which  his  son-in-law, 
the  adroit  Euripides,  extricates  him  with  great  difficulty.  The 
drama  is  spirited,  but  Aristophanes  has  neglected  to  give  a  sum- 
mary of  his  griefs  against  Euripides.  It  is  a  game  in  satire  rather 
than  a  satire  proper  —  a  series  of  skirmishes  rather  than  a  regular 
attack. 

This  second  series  was  closed  by  the  -JExaQSj  one  of  the  most  im- 
portant of  Aristophanes's  plays.  It  won  the  first  prize  at  the 
Lenaean  festival  of  405.  Here  there  is  represented  a  formal  judi- 
cial trial  of  Euripides  and  his  art.  He  had  just  died,  a  year  after 
Sophocles ;  the  tragic  poet  Agatho  was  in  Macedon ;  and  Bacchus, 
patron  of  the  theatre,  is  represented  as  anxious  about  the  fate  of 
tragedy.  But  he  has  no  poet.  Impelled  by  his  fears,  he  decides 
to  go  and  seek  one  among  the  dead.  Whom  shall  he  bring?  He 
hesitates  between  .^schylus  and  Euripides.  A  competition  takes 
place ;  the  two  rivals  mutually  attack  each  other ;  thus  all  their  art 
is  criticised  from  the  moral  as  well  as  the  poetic  point  of  view.  Eu- 
ripides is  shown  to  be  a  sophist  who  lias  corrupted  tragedy,  degraded 
ideals,  troubled  men's  spirits,  and  compromised  good  morality.  Bac- 
chus chooses  u^Eschylus  and  brings  him  back  in  triumph  to  the  earth. 

The  years  following  were  somewhat  unfavorable  to  comedy.  The 
close  of  the  Peloponnesian  War  had  left  Athens  under  a  burden. 
W^hen  the  democracy  was  reestablished,  the  city  took  breath,  but 
public  spirit  had  not  the  same  vigor  as  before.  Comedy  underwent 
a  transformation.  Though  in  his  youth  the  poet  was  the  incarnation 
of  exuberant  fancy  and  venturesomeness,  he  was  obliged  in  his  old 
age  to  conform  to  the  new  regime.  This  he  did  with  a  remarkable 
accommodation  of  spirit;  yet  he  produced  no  masterpieces  comparable 
to  those  of  his  earlier  years. 

In  392,  he  presented  the  Ecdesiazusce,  an  attack  against  contempo- 
rary theories.  In  this  play  the  women  of  Athens,  led  by  Praxagora, 
are  represented  as  having  got  control  of  the  assembly  and  having 
passed  a  vote  establishing  the  principles  of  absolute  communism. 
Tliey  abolished  all  rights  of  property  and  of  the  family.  The  theme 
of  the  play  is  the  consequences  that  ensue.  These  are  vividly  por- 
trayed. One  no  longer  finds  harsh  satire  directed  against  the 
powers  of  the  day.  The  poet  attacks  a  scholastic  system,  a  chimera. 
Does  he  have  specially  in  view  a  certain  school,  for  example  that  of 
Plato,  as  has  been  supposed  ?  He  has  not  told  us  and  we  do  not 
know.  There  is  the  same  tendency  in  the  Phitus,  of  which  the  first 
edition  was  brought  out  in  408,  and  the  second,  rewritten,  in  .388. 


Aristophanes  and  his  Contemporaries  253 

The  extant  version  is  the  second  edition.  A  sturdy  fellow,  Chremy- 
lus,  having  found  the  god  of  riches,  a  blind  god  as  everybody  knows, 
takes  him  to  the  temple  of  Asclepias,  gets  him  healed,  and  maintains 
him  in  his  own  home.  In  consequence  a  whole  group  of  honest 
people,  his  neighbors  and  himself,  become  rich  and  devote  them- 
selves to  banqueting.  Under  this  guise  is  given  a  view  of  the  ever 
recurring  social  question ;  and  the  intervention  of  Poverty,  in  a  cele- 
brated scene  in  which  she  extols  her  merits,  gives  the  play  a  moral 
tone,  that  is  unfortunately  diminished  and  obscured  by  the  final 
scene. 

This  was  probably  the  last  comedy  that  Aristophanes  presented 
in  his  own  name.  He  is  said  to  have  composed  also  the  Cocalus  and 
the  Eolosicon,  plays  that  have  been  lost.  At  the  time  they  were 
represented  as  the  works  of  his  son  Ararus,  for  whom  he  wished 
thus  to  win  public  favor.  The  former  was,  even  at  this  early  date, 
a  comedy  of  intrigue ;  the  latter,  a  parody. 

Aristophanes  died  soon  after  this  event.  His  anonymous  biogra- 
pher tells  us  that  Plato  composed  for  him  this  epitaph,  ''The 
Graces,  seeking  a  temple  which  should  not  perish,  chose  the  soul  of 
Aristophanes."  Besides  the  eleven  plays  that  we  possess  and  those 
that  we  have  mentioned,  he  composed  a  number  of  others,  of  which 
we  have  only  titles  and  fragments.  The  total  appears  to  have  been 
at  least  forty,  y 

2.  His  General  Tendencies.  His  Views :  Political,  Social,  and 
Literary.  His  Religion.  —  The  first  question  that  arises  when  one 
tries  to  appreciate  this  series  of  remarkable  works  is,  Plow  far  can 
they  be  taken  seriously  ?  When  taken  together  they  suggest  the 
idea  of  a  system  of  political,  social,  and  literary  views  from  which 
might  be  deduced  a  doctrine.  One  is  tempted  to  regard  Aristoph- 
anes as  a  thinker  well  able  to  judge  of  affairs  in  his  time,  whose 
opinion  merits  much  consideration.  Is  this  really  the  case  ?  Be- 
hind these  brilliant  invectives  are  we  to  look  for  a  clearly  defined 
policy,  an  established  creed,  and  a  criticism  resting  upon  known 
principles  ? 

If  so,  then  surely  Aristophanes  would  need  to  be  regarded  as  a 
devotee  of  tradition,  the  resolute  enemy  of  innovation.  One  would 
be  obliged  to  suppose  that  from  his  youth,  before  he  was  twenty,  he 
showed  a  constant  inclination  toward  the  past  as  against  the  future ; 
and  that,  devoted  to  the  ancient  ideals  which  were  being  abandoned 
more  and  more,  he  did  not  cease  to  defend  them  and  attack  all  that 
tended  to  corrupt  them.  And  though  in  itself  this  would  not  appear 
improbable,  yet  it  seems  that  one  should  then  be  able  to  deduce  from 
his  criticism  a  number  of   affirmations  tliat  would   constitute  his 


254  Greek  Literature 

doctrine.  But  as  soon  as  one  seeks  these,  it  is  seen  to  be  impossi- 
ble to  formulate  them.  Aristophanes  censures  democracy;  is  he, 
then,  a  partisan  of  aristocratic  institutions,  and  would  he  institute  a 
current  of  opinion  tending  to  reestablish  them  ?  There  is  nothing 
in  his  plays  that  permits  us  to  suppose  this.  What  he  censures  is 
certain  men  and  certain  abuses;  he  lashes  and  turns  to  ridicule 
Cleon,  Lamachus,  Hyperbolus,  Cleophon,  and  even  makes  sport  of 
Pericles  after  his  death.  He  shows  how  the  people  are  deceived 
and  sometimes  wheedled  by  them.  Does  he,  therefore,  think  that 
the  state  would  be  better  governed  by  other  masters  ?  Really,  we 
do  not  know.  He  denounces  the  impiety  of  the  sophists,  the  dan- 
gerous subtleties  of  their  instruction,  the  perilous  seductions  of  that 
rhetoric  which  obliterates  the  sense  of  justice.  Would  he  have 
wished  men  to  abstain  from  learning  the  art  of  language  and  to 
return  outright  to  the  old  education  ?  or  did  he  mean  simply  to 
point  out  some  deplorable  excesses  while  advocating  necessary 
changes  ?  He  has  not  said.  The  resolute  adversary  of  Euripides, 
did  he  sustain  the  same  relation  to  all  contemporary  poetry  ?  It 
would  appear  not ;  for  he  at  least  admired  the  style  of  the  poet 
whom  he  derided.  As  for  religion,  if  he  pretended  to  defend  it 
against  the  theorists  who  advocated  atheism,  this  was  certainly  not 
because  he  had  a  scrupulous  respect  for  the  gods.  It  is  well  known 
with  what  informality  he  treated  them  in  more  than  one  passage. 
All  this,  it  must  be  confessed,  does  not  give  us  the  idea  that  he  was 
a  theologian,  nor  even  a  believer.  We  see,  indeed,  what  he  attacked ; 
but  when  we  endeavor  to  say  precisely  what  he  defended,  we  are  at 
a  loss. 

May  it  not  be  that  really  he  never  comprehended  himself,  and 
possibly  never  felt  the  need  of  doing  so  ?  Let  us  consider  how  he 
was  reared.  From  youth  his  instincts,  which  were  only  the  con- 
sciousness of  his  rare  powers,  carried  him  toward  comedy.  His  edu- 
cation was  obtained  while  listening  to  the  plays  of  Cratinus  and  his 
contemporaries,  meditating  upon  tliem,  and  trying  to  imitate  them. 
As  soon  as  he  began  to  think  for  himself,  his  thought  was  in  a  way 
moulded  upon  theirs.  In  trying  to  imitate  their  art,  he  adopted  also 
their  spirit,  which  was  inseparable  from  it  —  a  spirit  of  satire,  oppo- 
sition, and  mockery  at  extravagance.  The  processes  of  the  ])rofes- 
sion  were  therefore  early  adapted  to  the  spontaneous  trend  of  his 
genius,  wliich  was  then  just  what  it  was  later;  and  therefore  he 
never  became  anxious  to  search  for  the  true  and  the  ideal.  To  seize 
upon  the  ridiculous  and  display  it  before  all  eyes,  that  was  his  call- 
ing. All  his  insight,  natural  good  sense,  and  wit  were  used  to  dis- 
close this,  as  was  his  poetic  fancy  and  talent  in  exaggerating  and 


Aristophanes  and  his  Contemporaries  255 

adapting  it  for  the  stage.  Characters  thus  formed  do  not  have 
doctrines ;  for  they  are  strangers  to  disinterested  research.  They 
have  tendencies,  whose  principal  element  is  the  instinct  of  what 
their  art  demands  and  of  what  is  most  fitted  to  bring  out  the  brill- 
iance of  their  powers. 

Must  we  say  then,  on  the  other  hand,  that  the  comedies  of  Aris- 
tophanes lack  seriousness  ?  We  cannot  go  so  far.  When  he  attacks 
contemporary  statesmen,  it  is  true  we  cannot  accept  his  testimony, 
because  it  is  that  of  a  pamphleteer  and  professional  satirist.  We 
have  no  reason  for  thinking  him  juster  in  this  than  he  was  when  he 
portrayed  Euripides.  But  he  is  just  to  as  great  an  extent,  and  this 
makes  his  account  worth  attention.  For,  in  criticising  Euripides,  if 
he  sees  only  his  defects  and  exaggerates  them  beyond  all  reason, 
he  does  evince,  by  the  essential  justice  of  his  remarks,  undoubted 
clearsightedness.  And  this  is  true  of  all  his  censures.  That  he 
calumniated  Pericles,  Cleon,  and  many  others,  we  do  not  doubt.  But 
in  attributing  to  them  intentions  that  they  did  not  have  and  acts  that 
they  did  not  perform,  he  more  than  once  perceived  and  brought  to 
light  the  secret  viciousness  of  their  policy,  or  better,  that  of  all 
policy  which  cannot  live  without  public  approval,  thinks  itself  justi- 
fied in  flattering  public  opinion,  and  in  deceiving  it  for  the  sake  of 
retaining  power.  It  would  be  much  more  unjust  on  the  whole  to  de- 
grade him  to  the  rank  of  a  simple  jester  than  to  raise  him  to  that  of 
a  philosopher  or  political  economist.  Very  keen  good  sense  consti- 
tuted the  moral  worth  of  his  dramas ;  and  even  if  it  did  not  keep 
him  from  prejudice  and  injustice,  it  caused  him  to  bring  constantly 
to  light  truths  whose  particular  application  may  have  been  doubtful, 
but  whose  eventual  correctness  is  beyond  dispute. 

3.  His  Dramatic  Invention.  His  Subjects.  His  Idea  of  Dramatic 
Action.  —  To  represent  these  truths  in  comedy,  Aristoplianes  does 
not  seem  to  have  sensibly  modified  the  procedure  of  his  i)redeces- 
sors.  No  remarkable  innovation  is  attributed  to  him  either  in  sub- 
stance or  in  form.  What  distinguishes  him  from  the  other  comic 
poets  is  not  his  dramatic  method,  but  his  personal  qualities. 

He  had,  to  an  eminent  degree,  force  and  variety  of  invention, 
joined  with  grace  and  a  discretion  peculiarly  Attic,  which  was  mani- 
fest even  in  his  drollest  exaggerations. 

His  invention  always  has  this  as  its  chief  merit  —  that  it  is  of  the 
sort  best  fitted  to  ex})ress  his  idea;  it  has,  too,  the  merit  of  being 
naturally  comic,  and  of  permitting  a  rich  development  of  fancy. 
From  this  double  point  of  view,  each  of  his  subjects  is  a  treasure 
trove  ;  the  more  one  studies  him,  the  more  one  admires  his  propriety, 
justice,  and  innate  drollery.    If  he  wishes  to  plead  the  cause  of  peace, 


256  Greek  Literature 

though  he  might  have  done  so  in  a  thousand  ways,  what  a  happy  idea 
that  of  bringing  before  us  a  man  who  has  made  a  treaty  quite  on  his 
own  account  and  who  lives  in  the  enjoyment  of  peace,  while  every 
one  around  is  suffering  from  the  effects  of  war.  The  thesis  is  at 
once  expressed  in  drama,  the  statement  provided  with  a  vivid  and 
sensible  demonstration.  How  many  amusing  incidents  such  a  sub- 
ject offers  to  the  imagination  of  a  poet !  To  be  sure,  its  improba- 
bility is  excessive,  yet  not  such  as  fancy  cannot  accept.  It  has  a 
certain  reasonableness,  as  it  consists  merely  in  the  investment  of  an 
isolated  person  with  those  rights  which  in  real  life,  society  reserves 
to  itself.  The  supposition  is  impossible  from  the  social  point  of 
view ;  but,  for  all  that,  it  is  not  absurd  in  itself.  What  we  have  said 
of  the  Acharnians  is  as  applicable  to  the  Knights,  the  Wasps,  or  the 
Clouds,  if  we  consider  the  essentials  of  their  invention.  There  is 
always  the  same  clearness  in  the  definition  of  the  theme,  always  a 
situation  fitted  to  give  the  idea  its  full  value  by  presenting  it  under 
the  form  best  suited  to  demonstration,  and  at  the  same  time  most 
pleasing.  Everywhere  in  the  buffoonery  there  is  the  same  adherence 
to  reality.  This  informs  the  spectator  that  he  is  looking  at  a  scene 
of  contemporary  life,  and  also  makes  it  seem  animated. 

Even  when  the  poet's  imagination  seems  to  soar  most  freely,  in 
plays  that  might  be  regarded  as  works  of  pure  fancy,  like  the  Birds, 
analogous  remarks  are  still  found  applicable.  In  the  midst  of  the 
drama  there  is  an  invention  which  brings  out  the  idea  clearly ;  and 
though  bold,  it  seems  surcharged  with  good  sense.  We  have  here 
the  ideal  city,  Nephelococcygia,  contrasting  with  the  real  city 
Athens,  and  carefully  guarding  against  all  that  encumbers  the  latter. 
Such  an  invention  defines  the  theme  and  creates  the  whole  play. 

Consequently,  if  the  subjects  of  Aristophanes  did  not  differ 
essentially  from  those  of  Cratinus  or  Eupolis,  it  is  proper  to  admit 
that  they  possessed,  in  an  eminent  degree,  the  qualities  necessary  to 
bring  the  type  to  its  perfection.  Moreover,  these  qualities  were 
found,  not  only  in  the  preliminary  invention  and  in  the  theme,  but 
in  the  development  of  the  drama  as  well.  That  was  perhaps  the 
principal  reason  of  his  superiority. 

The  art  of  developing  the  action  in  Old  Comedy  was  properly 
that  of  putting  logic  into  the  incoherence  and  probability  into  the 
fancy.  It  supposes  a  rare  combination  of  diverse,  and  even  opposed, 
qualities.  We  have  seen  that  Cratinus,  with  his  inexhaustible  ani- 
mation and  his  soaring  flights  of  fancy,  frequently  failed  in  this. 
Forgetting  liis  proper  field,  he  ran  off  into  pure  fancy  or  satiric 
digressions.  This  Aristophanes  never  did.  He  was  not  bound  to 
cumbersome,  ungraceful  exactitude,  or  to  rational  connection  of  the 


Aristophanes  and  his  Contemporaries  257 

events,  which  would  have  been  incongruous  in  a  play  of  fancy  ;  but 
all  seems  free  in  the  development  of  his  drama.  All,  or  almost  all, 
is  incident,  surprise,  unforeseen  caprice,  sally,  whim,  or  droll,  absurd 
improvisation.  The  ideas  in  detail  spring  from  the  character  of  the 
personages ;  each  scene  has  its  own  unexpected  inventions.  This 
is  necessary  ;  and  it  is  in  this  variety,  this  apparent  incoherence,  that 
the  comic  poet's  genius  is  manifest.  If  we  compare  the  invention 
of  details  with  the  fundamental  invention,  we  see  at  once  that  they 
all  depend  on  it,  all  spring  spontaneously  from  it,  and  are  in  a  way 
only  its  expansion  and  development.  Certainly  Dicaeopolis,  in  the 
second  part  of  the  Acharnians,  might  have  proceeded  differently. 
The  scene  of  the  Megarian,  that  of  the  Boeotian,  and  that  of  Lama- 
chus,  are  not  necessarily  demanded  by  the  situation ;  but  are  all 
somewhat  accidental,  and  independent  of  each  other.  They  seem 
to  follow  one  another  with  no  other  guiding  principle  than  that  of 
the  poet's  fancy.  Nevertheless,  they  all  conform  to  the  general 
theme,  fall  naturally  into  the  series,  and  tend  to  the  same  demon- 
stration. Hence  there  is  logic  in  the  assemblage ;  but  it  is  flexible, 
discreet,  typical  of  Athens. 

The  plan  of  the  play  is  evidently  that  which  we  have  defined 
above  when  we  attributed  it  to  the  entire  Old  Comedy.  It  is  the 
union  of  a  thesis  and  a  story,  so  associated  that  the  story  shall  be  the 
demonstration  of  the  thesis.  The  peculiarity  of  Aristophanes  lies 
in  the  perfect  fusion  of  the  two  elements.  The  thesis,  far  from 
burdening  the  story,  communicates  elements  of  interest  and  piquancy 
of  its  own.  The  story,  far  from  veiling  the  thesis,  impresses  it  on 
the  hearer  by  a  force  belonging  to  the  story  ;  and  finally,  the  action 
and  the  resolution  constitute  a  sort  of  visible  evidence  of  the  truth 
of  the  thesis. 

4.  The  Characters :  their  Double  Nature,  Ideal  and  Real.  —  In  the 
plays  live  and  move  a  throng  of  characters  who  quite  naturally 
share  the  characteristics  of  the  action.  They,  too,  are  fantastic, 
droll,  and  often  incoherent.  What  we  have  said  in  a  general  way  of 
the  characters  in  the  Old  Comedy  applies  particularly  to  those  of 
Aristophanes;  for  it  is  chiefly  from  these  that  we  have  tried  to 
conceive  the  others.  There  would  be  no  cause  to  refer  to  the  sub- 
ject again,  if  certain  traits,  though  perhaps  not  peculiar  to  the  poet, 
did  not  appear  in  his  works  sufiiciently  marked  to  merit  attention 
by  themselves. 

For  the  most  part  the  great  characters  that  interest  us  for  their 
own  sake,  those  of  the  first  order,  are  first,  types,  and  afterwards, 
individuals.  They  represent  a  class  of  men  whose  dominant 
sentiments  they  possess.     Dicaeopolis  and  Strepsiades  are  the  Athe- 


258  Greek  Literature 

nian  peasant  under  two  different  aspects;  Philocleon  is  the  Athe- 
nian burgher  considered  in  one  of  his  most  interesting  aspects. 
Cleon  himself  is  much  less  the  historic  personage  of  that  name  than 
the  demagogue  who  flatters  the  people  that  he  may  become  their 
master  ;  and  the  Socrates  of  the  Clouds  is  in  no  respect  the  teacher 
of  riato,  but  the  sophist,  or  in  other  terms,  the  retailer  of  counter- 
feit knowledge,  the  master  of  cunning  and  cleverness.  Hence  they 
all  have  an  ideal  character ;  for  these  traits  are  common  to  a  whole 
class,  and  not  distinguished  from  the  complex  reality  except  in  so 
far  as  the  poet's  genius  rises  above  particular  details  by  an  abstrac- 
tion looking  to  the  universal.  They  depart  from  reality  for  yet 
another  reason.  This  is  the  demand  of  comedy  itself  as  it  was  then 
conceived ;  for  it  was  not  content  with  moderate  ridicule,  but 
called  for  droll  exaggeration.  All  the  fictitious  creatures  of  the 
comic  poets  needed,  therefore,  to  magnify  at  least  some  of  their 
characteristic  traits  far  beyond  what  was  possible  in  nature.  The 
peasant's  passion  for  his  personal  tranquillity  in  Dicaeopolis,  the 
love  of  economy  in  Strepsiades,  the  very  baseness  of  the  demagogue 
in  Cleon,  are  thus  pushed  to  excess.  The  exaggeration  in  them  has 
something  grandiose  about  it.  The  poet's  imagination  designedly 
seeks  an  ideal  such  as  one  would  expect  in  the  Old  Comedy. 

Nevertheless,  this  does  not  prevent  his  having,  if  not  observation 
in  the  strict  sense,  at  least  a  vivid  intuition  of  reality.  It  appears 
that  this  is  one  of  the  matters  in  which  Aristophanes  was  superior  to 
Cratinus.  His  typical  figures  are  strongly  individualized,  and  that 
with  a  remarkable  delicacy  of  touch.  Dicaeopolis  has  a  critical,  in- 
dependent spirit.  He  is  fond  of  good  cheer,  naturally  joyful,  and 
roguish ;  alert  and  quick,  he  is  a  true  peasant  of  Mount  Pavnes,  gaunt 
iu  body,  agile,  always  moving,  a  man  whose  words  are  acted  rather 
than  spoken.  Strepsiades  is  older  and  more  morose  and  dissatisfied ; 
he  is  credulous  and  cunning  at  the  same  time ;  inventive,  yet  incapa- 
ble of  understanding  what  transcends  his  experience.  He  is  eco- 
nomical, keenly  alive  to  his  interests,  and  honest  at  heart,  although 
the  pressure  of  the  debts  he  must  pay  makes  him  try  dishonest 
means  of  escape.  As  the  head  of  the  family,  he  is  both  feeble  and 
authoritative.  Bdelycleon,  Pithetaerus,  Lysistrata,  Praxagora,  and 
Chremylus  each  have  their  individual  traits.  H  they  had  part  in 
a  more  commonplace  action,  these  would  suffice  to  mark  them  as 
wholly  like  ourselves ;  and  the  comedy  of  exuberant  fancy  would  be- 
come the  comedy  of  character,  of  which  it  contains  the  germ.  The 
mad  extravagance  to  which  it  is  devoted  prevents  this ;  neverthe- 
less, each  of  these  droll  personages  is  a  clearly  conceived  individual. 

This  excellent  realism  of  the  personages  is  shown,  not  only  in 


Aristophanes  and  his  Contemporaries  259 

their  sentiments  and  manners,  but  also  in  the  environment  in  which 
they  live.  Aristophanes  excelled  in  giving,  by  means  of  brief  ex- 
pressions mingled  with  the  chant  or  the  dialogue,  a  thousand  just 
and  exact  descriptive  phrases  that  make  his  comedy  vivid  and  real. 
Dicseopolis,  leading  the  Dionysiac  procession  around  the  court  in 
front  of  his  house,  presents  before  our  eyes  the  image  of  a  rustic 
festival ;  Strepsiades,  turning  back  his  thoughts  regretfully  to  the 
store  of  provisions  once  filling  his  home,  transports  us  from  Athens 
to  the  little  paternal  domain  where  he  grew  up  to  become  a  man ; 
the  laborers  of  the  Peace  portray  for  us  familiar  scenes  of  village 
life,  reunions  where  the  neighbors  assemble,  and  the  peaceful,  leis- 
urely conversation  which  they  enjoy  over  their  cups.  It  is  from 
these  plays,  in  fact,  that  one  can  obtain  the  greatest  number  of  deli- 
cate, precise  indications  regarding  the  life  of  Athens  and  Attica  dur- 
ing the  second  half  of  the  fifth  century.        r ■ -" 

5.  His  Lyric  Passage.  His  Language.  —  In  the  hands  of  such  a 
poet,  what  will  the  lyric  passages  be  like  ?  He  had  a  vivid  imagina- 
tion, gayety,  frolicsomeness,  and  the  most  delicate  sense  of  rhythm. 
These  are  the  dominant  qualities  of  his  lyric  poetry.  His  chants 
seem  as  if  improvised.  It  is  a  spontaneous,  capricious  poetry, 
brilliant  and  easy,  uniting  the  most  charming  simplicity  with  pol- 
ished lustre  and  grandeur.  Deep  inspiration  is  rare  in  the  chants ; 
but  sincerity  and  vivacity  of  impression  are  everywhere  manifest. 

Satiric  couplets  abound.  The  aggressive,  light,  petulant  type 
of  song  was  as  truly  Greek  as  it  is  French ;  but  in  Greece  it  was 
more  like  the  popular,  Dionysiac  iamb,  more  like  a  revel,  more 
playful.  Aristophanes  showed  unusual  skill  in  this  type  of  com- 
position. We  cannot  cite  examples  here ;  for  personal  mockeries 
almost  always  need  a  commentary,  and  that  would  make  them  seem 
heavy.  They  are,  however,  abundant:  now  a  biting  allusion,  half 
concealed  beneath  ingenious  allegory,  now  a  series  of  droll  jests, 
apparently  incoherent,  but  containing  fine  expressions,  puns,  and 
amusing  figures.  It  is  easy  to  see  how  much  these  merry  snatches 
of  song,  with  their  air  of  life  and  appropriateness,  must  have 
amused  the  people.  This  explains  also  why  they  have  lost  so  much 
of  their  charm  to-day. 

The  really  durable  lyric  passages  are  those  which  manifest  the 
grace  of  his  imagination.  Let  us  note  particularly  those  that  show 
his  love  of  nature.  This  man,  who  seems  to  have  lived  only  for  the 
city,  must  have  had  a  sincere,  ardent  love  of  the  country  and  its 
life.  Who  can  read,  without  the  keenest  pleasure,  the  appeal  which, 
in  the  Birds,  the  hoopoe  addresses,  across  prairies  and  forests,  to  the 
whole  winged  tribe  ?     Finesse  is  here  united  in  a  charming  manner 


260  Greek  Literature 

with  free  play  of  invention ;  a  thousand  details  are  found,  yet  one 
has  finally  the  sensation  of  free  space,  even  to  the  distant  horizon :  — 

"  Quick,  quick,  this  way,  this  way,  all  ye  who  fly  as  I  do ;  this 
way,  ye  who  rove  on  the  husbandman's  fertile  fields,  a  multitudinous 
tribe  of  barley-eaters,  swift-winged,  shrill-voiced  robbers,  gathering 
seeds  on  this  side  and  on  that;  this  way,  ye  who,  in  the  furrow, 
leaping  from  clod  to  clod,  utter  gently  your  joyous  cry:  tio,  tio; 
this  way,  familiar  visitants  of  the  garden,  perched  on  twigs  of  ivy ; 
and  ye,  who  make  your  nests  in  the  mountains,  who  go,  marauding, 
to  the  wild  olive  or  the  arbute  tree,  come  quickly  to  my  call.  ,  .  ." 

This  is  nimble,  light,  leaping;  but  the  general  plan  of  the  pas- 
sage is  simple,  and  the  impressions  of  detail,  howsoever  distinct, 
are  thoroughly  mingled  in  one  concrete  general  impression. 

Nor  is  dignity  lacking,  though  he  aims  in  general  rather  to  be 
graceful  and  amiable.  Whenever  the  subject  makes  it  possible,  his 
imagination  sees  splendid  visions.  When  the  chorus  of  the  Clouds 
sing  behind  the  scene  before  showing  themselves  to  Socrates,  the 
poet,  in  a  few  words,  discloses  to  us  the  marvellous  spectacle  of  the 
world  lit  by  the  sun  :  — 

"  Everlasting  Clouds,  let  us  rise  high  in  air  and  display  our  soft, 
wavy  vapors.  From  the  bosom  of  Ocean,  our  father,  from  the  midst 
of  the  resounding  waves,  let  us  mount  to  the  lofty,  tree-covered 
summits  of  the  hills.  Thence  shall  we  see  the  sacred  earth  bearing 
its  fruit,  the  divine  rivers  and  their  noisy  waves,  and  the  sea,  with 
its  dull  murmur.  The  sun,  like  an  eye  ever  open  in  the  depths  of 
ether,  is  shining  in  all  its  splendor.  Let  us  tlirow  oif  the  misty 
vapors  that  enshroud  us  and,  revealing  our  immortal  forms,  look, 
with  infinite  power  of  sight,  down  on  the  face  of  the  earth." 

Finally,  sometimes  there  is  even  emotion  in  this  poetry,  though 
it  is  created  to  accompany  laughter.  We  cannot  cite  here  the  sec- 
ond parabasis  of  the  Peace,  as  it  is  too  long,  and  loses  greatly  by 
being  separated  from  its  context.  Suffice  it  to  remark  how  delicious 
is  the  laborer's  dream,  when  he  sees  the  war  coming  to  a  close  and 
is  to  return  to  his  field.  Beneath  tlie  light  playfulness,  one  cannot 
but  recognize  the  natural  relish  of  the  poet  for  the  things  he  de- 
scribes. The  few  passages  of  the  sort  that  might  be  cited,  however, 
are  quite  exceptional.  In  general,  the  lyric  spirit  of  Aristophanes 
lies  in  the  tone  of  his  comedy,  and  is  intimately  connected  there- 
with. Its  merit  lies  in  the  ease  of  its  development  and  the  admi- 
rable variety  of  character  it  possesses. 

This  is  also  the  merit  of  the  language  spoken  by  his  characters. 
It  represents  the  perfection  of  Attic  familiar  speech.  Contempo- 
raries thought  they  could  discern  in  it  imitation  of  Euripides ;  and 
even  Aristophanes,  though  a  sworn  adversary  of   the  great  tragic 


Aristophanes  and  his  Contemporaries  261 

poet,  did  not  absolutely  deny  the  reproach,  or  eulogy,  of  borrowing 
from  him  certain  graces  of  style.      But  the  real  model  of  Aristoph- 
anes was  the   conversation  of  contemporary  Athenians.      He   ex- 
celled in  reproducing  its  lively  turns,  its  free  movement,  its  delicacy 
and  variety,  and  that  with  a  simple  elegance  which  seemed  to  cost     _. 
him  no  effort.     Natural,  yet  piquant,  grace  was  his  true  merit ;  and   • 
none  of  his  contemporaries  seems  to  have  possessed  It  to  the  same   ' 
extent.     He  could  not  be  better  characterized  as  a  writer  than  by 
applying  to  him  the  pretty  verses  from  one  of  his  fragments,  where 
he  says  of  a  certain  person,  "  He  speaks  the  language  of  the  middle  \ 
class  in  the  city,  without  the  soft  affectation  of  the  ^lite  citizens,     i 
and  without  the  coarseness  of  the  ignorant." 

The  comic  and  dramatic  qualities  of  this  language  are  those 
chiefly  deserving  notice.  It  is  remarkably  adroit  in  word-play.  In 
comic  dialogue,  it  does  not  fear  to  descend  to  absurd  puns.  To  our 
taste,  this  is  a  sufficiently  small  merit,  yet  perhaps  not  so  for  the 
public  taste  of  the  time.  There  is  more  reason  for  praising  its 
invention.  It  is  an  invention  of  words,  uncouth  compounds,  and 
effects  of  every  sort,  resulting  from  surprises  and  comparisons.  All 
this,  however,  belongs  rather  to  the  type  of  composition  than  to  the 
poet.  His  really  personal  merit  is  in  the  vivacity  of  his  diction  and 
the  flexibility  of  the  turns.  No  one  could  better  form  a  phrase  or 
emphasize  a  trait,  bring  together  a  pleasing  accumulation  of  words, 
or  put  them  in  opposition.  It  is  not  enough  to  say  that  his 
dialogue  is  full  of  life  and  movement ;  every  phrase  is  a  character- 
istic ;  every  word  provokes  a  laugh.  Hence  his  flexible,  sparkling 
style  was  remarkably  well  adapted  to  the  situations  and  the  char- 
acters. Read  in  the  Knights  the  pleasing  scene  where  the  slave, 
Demosthenes,  puts  the  sausage-seller  through  a  preliminary  examina- 
tion to  determine  that,  since  he  knows  nothing,  he  is  fit  to  become  a 
statesman  (v.  150  ff.).  The  sausage-seller,  surprised  and  yet  timid,  is 
quite  astonished  at  what  he  hears  —  petty  questions,  doubts,  artless 
exclamations,  rather  gestures  and  play  of  physiognomy  than  words. 
He  both  does  and  does  not  believe.  He  is  there,  half-defiant,  half-con- 
vinced, in  the  hands  of  the  droll  creature  who  impels  him  on.  The 
latter,  on  the  contrary,  uses  clear,  short  phrases,  the  air  of  a  master, 
categoi-ioal  assertions,  and  with  this,  when  necessary,  the  insinuating 
word  that  dispels  doubt,  excites  ambition,  encourages,  or  commands. 
The  language  thus  becomes  a  means  of  indicating  character;  it 
describes  the  personage  who  uses  it. 

These  observations  give  the  idea  that  one  needs  to  keep  in  mind 
about  Aristophanes.  His  art  is  as  clever  as  his  genius ;  it  serves 
him  without  controlling  him.     Both  give  indication  of  one  of  the 


262  Greek  Literature 

most  fertile,  free,  graceful  imaginations  that  can  be  conceived,  asso- 
ciated with  the  vividest,  keenest  intelligence  and  the  readiest  dis- 
cernment of  the  ridiculous. 

6.  Contemporaries  of  Aristophanes.  Eupolis.  End  of  Old  Comedy.  — 
Around  Aristophanes  were  grouped  a  number  of  poets  who  were  his 
rivals.  Their  works  are  lost,  but  were  more  or  less  like  his  own. 
Almost  thirty  names  might  be  mentioned ;  but  only  three  have  kept 
celebrity  and  deserve  more  than  to  be  passed  in  silence.  These  are 
Eupolis,  Fhryniohus,  and  Plato. 

!  Eupolis,  an  Athenian,  was  almost  the  equal  of  Aristophanes  in 
genius  and  reputation.  Born  not  long  before  445,  he  brought  out 
his  first  play  in  429.  For  nearly  twenty  years  his  success  was 
brilliant.  He  is  said  to  have  composed  fourteen,  or  seventeen, 
comedies ;  and  seven  times  he  won  the  first  prize.  In  411  he  per- 
ished in  a  shipwreck,  while  taking  part  in  a  military  expedition. 
His  most  important  plays  were :  the  Goats  (423),  in  which  he 
opposed  the  rude,  simple  manners  of  rustic  goatherds  to  the  soft 
effeminacy  of  the  elite  Athenians ;  the  Maricas  (420),  a  violent 
attack  against  the  demagogue  Hyperbolus,  Cleon's  successor ;  and 
the  Demes,  whose  date  is  uncertain.  In  this  play  he  called  from  the 
depths  of  Hades  several  of  the  great  men  of  Athens  to  teach 
the  people  a  lesson.  In  it  were  found  the  celebrated  verses  on 
the  eloquence  of  Pericles :  — 

"  He  was  the  ablest  of  men  in  speech.  "When  he  appeared  before 
the  people,  his  conduct  was  that  of  a  runner :  he  took  ten  paces  in 
advance  of  other  orators  and  surpassed  them  all  in  eloquence.  He 
was,  indeed,  a  swift  runner.  What  is  more,  he  possessed  the  gift 
of  persuasion.  It  sat  upon  his  lips.  His  speech  was  the  essence 
of  charm  ;  and  alone  among  orators,  he  could  leave  a  sting  in  the 
soul  of  his  auditors." 

Let  us  mention  yet  his  Baptce,  represented  probably  in  415, 
in  wliich  the  audacious  poet  lashed  the  votaries  of  the  Thracian 
goddess  Cottyto,  and  with  them  Alcibiades,  who  was  then  very 
powerful. 

Although  Eupolis  seems  to  have  had  the  same  beliefs  as  Aris- 
tophanes, tliey  were  friendly  for  only  a  short  time.  As  early  as 
420,  they  quarrelled  over  some  literary  matters  which  it  is  impossible 
to-day  to  ehicidate.  According  to  the  accounts  of  ancient  critics, 
Eupolis  was  eiulowed  with  inventive  genius,  fertile  and  graceful 
imagination,  and,  like  Cratinus,  was  aggressive  and  biting  in  attack. 
Though  as  intellectual  as  Aristophanes,  he  seems  to  have  been  less 
moderate,  and  so,  on  the  whole,  inferior. 


Aristophanes  and  his  Contemporaries  263 

Phrynichus  is  far  from  being  so  well  known.  His  dramatic  ca- 
reer extenSi  frorif  about  435  to  405.  His  chief  play  was  the  Misan- 
thrope (MovorpoTTos),  with  which,  in  414,  he  competed  against  the  Birds 
of  Aristophanes,  obtaining  only  the  third  prize. 

Plato,  surnamed  the  Comic  to  distinguish  him  from  the  philoso- 
pher, seems  to  have  been  the  youngest  of  this  group  of  poets.  He 
obtained  his  most  brilliant  successes  during  the  second  part  of  the 
Peloponnesian  War  and  in  the  years  that  followed.  Like  Aristoph- 
anes, he  often  attacked  contemporary  statesmen,  notably  Cleophon. 
But  the  dominant  element  in  his  plays  was  parody.  The  importance 
and  the  lustre  which  he  could  give  to  such  composition  have  caused 
him  to  be  classed  sometimes  as  a  poet  of  the  Middle  Comedy. 

With  these  various  poets  and  their  contemporaries,  the  Old  Comedy 
reached  its  zenith.  This  was  very  near  its  close,  at  the  end  of  the 
century.  The  caiises  of  its  swift  decline  are  not  well  understood. 
The  ancients  explained  it  by  a  law  imposing  silence  on  the  chorus 
through  divesting  it  of  the  right  of  satire ;  it  was  said,  too,  that 
after  the  war,  the  impoverished  citizens  were  no  longer  able  to  meet 
the  expenses  of  the  various  choregia.  Neither  of  the  explanations 
is  wholly  satisfactory,  as  they  both  are  limited  to  a  passing  state 
of  events.  Liberty  can  be  crushed  for  an  instant ;  but  if  it  had  been 
demanded  by  public  opinion,  nothing  could  have  hindered  it  from 
springing  up  afresh  at  Athens  in  the  fourth  century;  and  as  for 
the  impoverishment  mentioned,  that  was  neither  universal  nor  long- 
continued.  Hence  the  true  causes  for  the  transformation  must  be 
sought  elsewhere.  It  seems  that  one  might  discover  three  leading 
causes. 

First,  the  greater  sensitiveness  of  public  spirit.  At  the  end  of 
the  Peloponnesian  War,  the  democracy  had  had  a  rude  experience. 
When  it  was  reestablished,  it  became  more  defiant.  The  strifes  of 
orators  and  the  multiplicity  of  public  accusations  go  to  prove  this. 
Under  such  conditions,  a  direct  satire  of  current  politics  by  the 
theatre  was  impossible.  It  would  have  set  the  political  parties 
wrangling  on  the  spot. 

In  the  second  place,  the  type  of  composition  Avas  gradually  ex- 
hausted. Its  fantastic  inventions  were  condemned  by  their  nature 
to  lose  their  effectiveness.  The  public  probably  began  to  weary  of 
them  when  the  representations  were  interrupted  by  the  events  of 
404.     It  seemed  impossible  to  return  to  earlier  conditions. 

The  most  important  of  these  causes  was  probably  the  gradual 
transformation  of  public  taste  and  spirit.  It  is  certain  that  the  fourth 
century,  on  the  whole,  gave  preference  to  fine  and  delicate  reason 
rather  than  to  the  fantasies  of  the  imagination.     It  was  an  epoch  of 


264  Greek   Literature 

philosophy,  moral  observation,  and  dialectic.  All  in  all,  moderate 
qualities  predominated  over  the  others.  The  tendency  was  directly 
opposed  to  that  of  the  Old  Comedy.  Men  lost  their  liking  for  its 
hyperbolas,  buffooneries,  violence,  and  coarseness.  And  we  shall  see 
later  that  the  new  forms  of  comic  composition  were  precisely  those 
most  agreeable  to  the  new  tendency  of  public  opinion. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

CLASSICAL  IONIC   PROSE:    HERODOTUS 

1.  General  View.  2.  Herodotus :  his  Life  ;  his  Career.  3.  Science  in  Herodo- 
tus. 4.  Art  in  Herodotus.  6.  Ion  of  Chios.  6.  Ctesias.  7.  Philosophy  : 
Democritus.     8.  Medicine  :  Hippocrates. 

1.  General  View.  —  The  period  of  Greek  drama  is  contemporary 
with  that  of  the  Athenian  primacy  in  the  Greek  world.  From  the 
Persian  Wars  to  the  end  of  the  Peloponnesian  War,  Athens  was  the 
richest  city  in  Greece,  the  most  populous,  the  most  powerful  at  sea, 
the  most  important  politically,  and  the  one  in  which  art  attained 
its  most  brilliant  splendor.  After  the  dithyrambic  and  dramatic 
poetry,  prose  began  to  develop  there  with  incomparable  vigor  and 
maturity  under  the  three  forms  of  oratory,  history  and  philosophy. 
Ionic  till  then,  it  was  to  become  chiefly  Attic ;  and  in  the  dialect 
of  Athens,  more  or  less  altered  by  time  and  circumstance,  its 
works  were  to  be  written  henceforth  till  the  close  of  antiquity. 

Ionia  did  not  yield  to  her  younger  sister  without  a  struggle,  how- 
ever, her  old  priority  in  the  art  of  writing  prose.  During  the  half 
century  that  corresponds  to  the  earliest  period  of  Attic  prose,  Ionic 
prose  literature  continued  to  live  and  even  to  show  some  brilliance. 
It  is  the  time  of  Herodotus,  Democritus,  and  Hippocrates.  The 
general  progress  of  thought,  centring  in  Athens,  was  felt  through- 
out the  Greek  world;  and  the  writers  wliose  names  have  just  been 
mentioned  are  as  classic  as  those  of  Athens.  They  also  kept,  with  a 
maturity  characteristic  of  their  time,  many  traits  peculiar  to  tlieir 
race;  and  this  is  what  one  must  seek  in  their  writings.  We  shall 
join  to  these  great  names  those  of  a  few  other  less  important  writers 
belonging  to  the  same  group. ^ 

2.  Herodotus :  his  Life  ;  his  Career.-  —  Herodotus  was  born  in  480 

^  There  is  almost  no  Doric  prose.  The  Pythagorean  Philolaus,  and  Arcliy- 
las,  who  wrote  in  the  Doric  dialect,  have  nothing  at  ail  extant  ;  the  fragments 
we  have  as  coming  from  them  are  more  than  doui)tful. 

-  BiHLioGKArnY  :  The  editions  of  Dindorf;  (iaisford,  Oxford,  4  vols.,  1824; 
Stein,  Berlin,  1852-1802  ;  Abicht,  Leipsic,  1861-18()6,  IV-VI  ;  Macan,  London, 
2  vols.,  1895  ;   Rahr,  Leipsic,  4  vols..  185G,  I-lII  ;  Sayce,  London,  188:5. 

English  translations  by  Kawlinson,  London,  4  vols.,  1880,  with  introduction 
and  notes  ;  Macan,  London.  2  vols..  18U0  ;  Macaulay,  London,  2  vols.,  1895  ;  and 
Holder,  2  vols.,  1880. 

Con.sult :  The  introductions  of  Stein  and  Abicht  ;  and  the  important  work  of 
A.  Hauvette,  Jlerodot'.'  histurien  des  guerres  mediques,  Paris,  1894. 

205 


266  Greek  Literature 

at  Halicarnassus,  a  city  of  Carian  origin  afterward  colonized  by  the 
Dorians,  but  completely  permeated  with  the  civilization  of  the  great 
Ionic  cities  of  the  region.  An  inscription  of  the  time  shows  that  the 
dialect  of  Halicarnassus  was  then  purely  Jonjfi^^_^His  family  was 
rich  and  noble,  and  devoted  to  letters.  Among  his  near  relatives 
was  found  the  celebrated  epic  poet  Panyasis,  who  told  in  verse  the 
story  of  Heracles  and  that  of  the  Ionian  migrations.  In  such  an 
environment,  Herodotus  could  not  but  take  an  interest  in  ancient 
history  and  poetry,  and  learn  respect  for  religion.  He  was  scarcely 
twenty  when  he  found  himself  engaged,  like  his  kinsman  Panyasis, 
in  the  political  struggle  of  the  national  party  against  the  house  of 
Lygdamis  II.  The  struggle  was  conducted  with  varied  and  rather 
doubtful  success ;  in  the  course  of  it,  Panyasis  lost  his  life. 
Herodotus,  after  a  short  exile  in  Samos  and  a  temporary  return  to  his 
country,  departed  again,  owing  perhaps  to  new  difficulties,  in  454. 
It  was  probably  then  that  he  began  his  celebrated  travels.  In  Egypt, 
he  went  as  far  as  Elephantine;  in  Persia,  a  little  beyond  Susa; 
toward  the  north,  as  far  as  the  Cimmerian  Bosphorus  —  as  we  learn 
from  his  own  statements.  He  also  visited  Phoenicia,  the  Cyrenaica, 
Cyprus,  and  various  parts  of  the  Greek  world,  not  to  speak  of 
Magna  Graecia,  where  we  shall  find  him  before  long. 

Already  the  idea  of  his  work  was  beginning  to  form  in  his  mind. 
A  tradition  represents  him  at  Athens  in  446,  giving  a  public  reading 
of  some  of  his  tales,  and  receiving  from  the  city,  on  the  proposition 
of  Anytus,  a  reward  of  ten  talents.^  It  is  certain  that  Herodotus 
was  much  devoted  to  Athens,  for  he  probably  resided  there  a  long 
time,  and  returned  more  than  once.  In  440  Sophocles  addressed  to 
him  an  elegy.     Pericles  is  magnificently  celebrated  in  his  works.       i 

When  the  city  of  Thurii  was  founded  in  ^NFagna  Grfficia,  in  444,  by 
a  pan-Hellenic  emigration  organized  at  Athens,  Herodotus  became  a 
citizen  of  the  new  colony.  We  know  that  he  returned  to  Athens, 
for  he  saw  the  Propyltea  completed  (431).  Put  it  is  possible  that 
after  444  he  lived  chiefly  at  Thurii,  writing  his  History  there.  It 
was  probably  at  Thurii  that  he  died.  His  death  must  be  placed  in 
the  first  years  of  the  Peloponnesian  War,  —  in  426  or  425,  judging 
from  indications  to  be  found  in  his  works. 

His  history  recounts  the  struggle  between  Greeks  and  barbarians 
from  Croesus  to  Xerxes,  with  a  multitude  of  digressions  and  retro- 
gressions, winch  almost  make  it  an  ample  picture  of  Greek  and  bar-j 
barian  antiquity  in  the  eastern  Mediterranean.     There    are   to-day 

1  Diyllus,  in  Plutarch,  The  Malignity  of  HorodoUis,  c.  26.  There  are 
apocryplial  anecdcjtes  of  the  presence  of  Thucydides  at  the  time ;  and  again  at 
another  reading  at  Olympia. 


Classical  Ionic  Prose:   Herodotus  267 

nine  books,  each  of  which  bears,  in  the  manuscripts,  the  name  of  a 
Muse.  According  to  Lucian,  after  a  complete  reading  of  his  works 
at  Olympia,  the  Greeks,  in  an  impulse  of  admiration,  designated 
thus  the  several  books  composing  it.^  The  legendary  character  of 
the  anecdote  is  self-evident.  Modern  scholars  have  spent  much  eru- 
dition in  discussing  certain  questions  relative  to  the  present  state  of 
the  work :  Is  it  finished  ?  Was  it  written  all  at  once,  or  can  one 
distinguish  portions  belonging  to  different  years  ?  and  if  so,  how  far 
are  the  parts  fused  into  a  harmonious  whole  ?  Without  entering 
into  complicated  discussions,  let  us  say  that  the  work,  finished  or 
unfinished,  has  the  appearance  of  a  whole,  and  that,  if  the  different 
parts  were  probably  composed  in  widely  separated  periods  of  his 
life,  they  were  still  written  with  a  definite  plan  in  view,  so  as  to 
occupy  the  place  that  is  theirs  to-day.  This  is  all  that  is  really 
worth  determining. 

3.  Science  in  Herodotus.  —  Herodotus  has  often  been  called  the 
"  Father  of  History."  No  title  could  be  more  just  if  one  means  to 
say  that  he  composed  the  first  historical  work  which  left  a  durable 
impression  on  the  memory  of  later  times  and  really  became  classic. 
But  one  would  be  greatly  mistaken  in  concluding  that  he  wrote 
history  at  all  in  the  sense  that  a  modern  writer  would  conceive.  In 
literature,  as  in  all  else,  the  human  mind  advances  rather  by  successive 
steps  than  leaps.  Herodotus  is  intermediate  between  the  logogra- 
phers  and  Thucydides,  who,  in  turn,  was  surpassed  by  Folybius  in 
certain  ways ;  and  even  Poly  bins  differs  from  modern  writers.  The 
evolution  has  been  wrought  with  slow  regularity. 

Like  the  logographers  and  the  poets,  Herodotus  wished  above  all 
to  shed  a  brilliant  light  upon  the  great  exploits  of  antiquity.     He 
says  so  frankly  in  his  first  words.     He  cares  less  for  the  positive 
utility  of  exact  knowledge  of  the  facts  —  which  is  the  point  of  view 
of  Thucydides  —  than  for  the  glorification  of  "  splendid  and  strange 
deeds."     Like  the  logographers,  he  abounds  in  anecdotes,  romantic  i 
legends,  and  myths.     History,  thus  conceived,  makes  the  transition  \ 
between  epic,  which  had  grown  old,  and  romance,  which  was  stijl^ 
unborn. 

P)ut  there  are  new  elements.     First,  the  distant  past  is  no  longer  \ 
the  principal  theme  of  the  narrative ;  it  figures  only  as  an  episode.   1 
The  body  of  the  work  treats  boldly  a  period  almost  contemporary ;  \ 
Herodotus  begins  almost  at  once   the  narration  of  historic    events.  ! 
Then,  besides  the  romantic  anecdotes,  positive  facts  become  more 
numerous.     Geography   assumes    greater  importance  in   the  work : 
and  war  and  politics  form  its  essential  basis. 
1  Lucian,  Herodotus,  1. 


268  Greek  Literature 

The  spirit  and  method  of  the  history  change  along  with  the 
matter.  Herodotus  was  the  first  to  seek  the  law  that  binds  his  facts 
together.  He  aims  to  write  a  work  of  original  research  and  criticism. 
Even  in  the  first  line,  he  notifies  the  reader  of  the  change  :  "  This," 
says  he,  "  is  the  account  of  the  researches  made  by  Herodotus  of 
Halicarnassus  "  (to-roptr/i  dTrdSe^ts  178c).  The  word  laTopirj,  which  was 
to  become  the  name  for  the  type,  though  new  at  that  time,  and 
properly  signifying  investigation,  implies  a  whole  programme.  He 
knows  and  declares  that  the  investigation  must  be  made  with  care 
and  circumspection,*  to  say  nothing  of  the  sincerity  that  is  indis- 
pensable. 

Such  are  his  principles.     How  has  he  applied  them  ? 

We  may  leave  aside  the  question  of  sincerity.  In  spite  of  certain 
attacks  of  Ctesias  and  Plutarch,  who  are  too  professional  or  too  un- 
certain in  their  censure  ;  in  spite  even  of  the  fierce  polemic  recently 
waged  by  modern  scholars  against  his  good  faith,  —  one  may  assert 
that  it  is  above  suspicion.  Not  only  has  it  never  been  proved  that, 
in  the  account  of  his  travels,  he  was  the  exaggerator  that  some  have 
accused  him  of  being  ;  but  the  contrary  appears  true  on  the  face  of 
things.  Even  in  the  narration  of  political  events,  where  the  influ- 
ence of  party  spirit  might  a  priori  be  admitted  more  easily,  few  ^ 
historians  appear  to  have  been  more  nearly  exempt  from  it.  He  was 
protected  against  such  prejudices  by  a  lively,  always  interested, 
readily  sympathetic,  curiosity,  and  by  a  smiling  philosophy,  enabling 
him  to  see  with  ease  the  ludicrous  as  well  as  the  meritorious  side  of 
human  character.  This  does  not  by  any  means  imply,  however,  that 
he  was  never  deceived. 

Among  the  facts  he  reports,  he  loves  to  distinguish  those  he  has 
found  out  himself  from  those  he  knows  only  by  hearsay.  His 
method  is  good.  "When  he  speaks  as  an  eye-witness,  one  can  discover 
in  his  descriptions  occasional  easily  explained  errors  of  detail;  but\ 
in  general  his  impressions  are  vivid  and  just.  The  appearance  of 
the  Delta  and  the  Pyramids,  the  overflow  of  the  Nile,  papyrus,  the 
plains  of  Babylon,  furnish  him  themes  for  excellent  pictures.  "When/ 
he  speaks  of  what  he  has  heard,  the  problem  is  more  complicated. 
His  work  is  a  resume  of  the  whole  ancient  world.  To  inform  him- 
self on  all  these  things,  so  difficult  to  coinprehend,  from  what  sources 
has  he  drawn  his  information  ? 

The  history  of  Egypt,  Assyria,  and  Persia  was  preserved  largely  in 
inscriptions,  which  modern  science  is  deciphering.  There  was  in  Per- 
sia a  series  of  royal  parchments,  containing  a  summary  of  the  ofticial 
acts,  which,  later,  Ctesias  was  permitted  to  consult.     But  Herodotus 

1  Herodotus,  II,  45. 


Classical  Ionic  Prose:   Herodotus  269 

had  no  access  to  these  sources  of  information.  He  had  to  be  content 
with  questioning  the  people  of  the  country,  preferably  those  who 
were  thought  most  learned,  the  priests  of  the  sanctuaries,  the  sacris- 
tans, and  the  dragomans.  For  the  ancient  history  of  Greece,  he 
could  employ  the  accounts  of  poets,  logographers,  and  the  sanctuaries, 
with  their  rich  treasures  of  offerings,  and  with  the  explanations  always 
given  by  their  keepers.  For  the  history  of  the  Persian  Wars,  he 
had  the  sanctuai-ies  at  his  disposal,  then  the  archives  of  the  cities, 
and  particularly  the  oral  traditions,  still  vivid,  which  needed  only  to 
be  given  form  in  long  narratives.  For  his  knowledge  of  the  various 
countries,  besides  the  writings  of  Hecataeus  and  his  own  travels,  he 
could  make  use  of  accounts  related  to  him  by  travellers. 

The  common  character  of  all  these  sources  is  manifest.  Written 
or  oral,  they  have  almost  all  a  popular  element  which  is  incomplete 
and  untrustworthy.  The  product  obtained  is  a  mass  of  unverified 
statements,  facts  important  and  unimportant,  things  minutely  exact 
or  naively  marvellous  by  turns,  and  well-remembered  incidents  and 
legends.  W^ith  admirable  zeal  and  perseverance,  he  gathered  this  ma- 
terial ;  and  the  abundance  of  his  information  is  prodigious.  He  even 
attempted  criticism,  and  succeeded  as  far  as  was  possible  for  a  Greek 
of  the  fifth  century,  who  was  naturally  cautious,  prudent,  and  wary, 
yet  imaginative  and,  on  the  whole,  credulous  and  uncritical.  He  con- 
stantly relates  traditions  respecting  which  he  formally  declines  re- 
sponsibility. He  cites  his  authorities,  and  leaves  the  reader  to  judge 
between  two  or  three  different  forms  of  the  same  tale.  When  he 
undertakes  the  discussion  himself,  he  shows  good  sense,  reserve,  and 
wide  experience.  Where  these  gifts  are  sufficient,  he  is  excellent  — 
but  they  are  not  always  so.  Sometimes  questions  pertain  to  the  gen- 
eral principles  of  science;  sometimes  they  demand  for  their  solution 
a  special,  technical  preparation.  Aside  from  certain  simple,  super- 
ficial differences  between  Greek  and  barbarian,  Persian  and  Scythian, 
Egyptian  and  Thracian,  he  scarcely  conceives  more  than  one  kind  of 
disposition,  which  is  his  own  and  that  of  the  Greeks  of  his  time. 
He  is  ignorant  that  very  antique  stories  are  more  improbable  as  they 
are  more  detailed.  In  the  matter  of  miracles,  if  he  admits  some 
and  rejects  others,  it  does  not  appear  clearly  on  what  principles  he 
bases  his  opinion :  he  does  not  believe  that  doves  ever  speak  ;  yet  he 
does  not  think  it  incredible  that  a  mare  should  give  birth  to  a  rabbit. 
Oracles  inspire  in  him  great  respect,  particularly  when  they  come 
'  from  Delphi.  From  all  this,  evidently,  there  could  arise  only  a 
work  in  which  the  results  are  of  very  unequal  scientific  value. 

In  geography,  it  is  not  possible  to  believe  that  his  wide  travels 
were  unfruitful ;  but  it  is  certain  that,  in  things  which  he  did  not 


270  Greek  Literature 

see  for  himself,  such  as  the  Cassiterides  or  the  sources  of  the  Danube, 
he  was  not  always  capable  of  choosing,  among  the  opinions  of  liis 
time,  the  one  which  conformed  most  closely  to  the  truth.  Perhaps 
Heeataeus  was  his  superior  in  some  respects. 

On  the  ancient  history  of  the  Orient,  one  may  characterize  his 
work  in  a  word :  he  wrote  the  legendary  and  popular  history.  M. 
Maspero  has  said  excellently  concerning  him,  "  The  monuments  tell 
or  will  tell  some  day  what  Cheops,  Ramses,  or  Thothmes  really  did ; 
Herodotus  tells  us  what  was  said  of  them  in  the  streets  of  Mem- 
phis." *  Likewise  he  tells  us  what  was  said  of  Ninus  and  Semiramis 
in  the  streets  of  Babylon.  To  do  him  justice,  he  rendered  to  the 
knowledge  of  history  no  inconsiderable  service  by  his  frank,  diligent 
investigations. 

In  what  he  wrote  concerning  the  more  recent  Orient,  the  part  of 
truth  is  evidently  greater.  Yet  we  must  not  overlook  the  fact  that, 
in  the  centuries  antedating  science,  legends  sprang  up  almost  immei 
diately  after  the  events  of  which  they  treated  had  occurred.  Hisj 
history  of  Cyrus  is  partly  fabulous ;  and  his  Crcesus  is  often  likej 
one  of  the  Seven  Sages. 

The    same   observations   apply   in   some   measure   even   to   the 
accounts  of  things  in  Greece.     For  the  ancient  period  this  is  self- 
evident.     With  the  more  recent  periods,  the  history  gains  much  in  i 
solidity,  as  is  shown  by  the  clearness  of  the  narrative.     His  events  f 
are  connected  naturally ;  and  one  may  affirm  that,  on  the  whole,  his  j 
history  of  the  Persian  War  is  authentic.     But  though  the  body  of  | 
the  narrative  merits  credence,  the  detail  is  sometimes  of  less  value. 
Too  many  oracles  are  fulfilled ;  there  are  too  many  apparitions  of 
heroes,  too  many  miracles,  too  many  interpretations  made  after  the 
event  has  come  to  pass,  too  much  precision  in  accounts  of  things 
that  could  have  had  but  few  witnesses.     His  accounts  of  battles  are 
picturesque,  psychological,  epic,  rather  than  military  or  technical. 
Politics  is  treated  in  its  external,  final  manifestations,  rather  than  in 
the  causes  leading  up  to  its  events.     He  sketches  justly  the  moral 
attitude  of  Themistocles  or  Aristides,  but  cannot  discern  profoundly 
their  point  of  view. 

Yet  he  seeks,  as  we  have  said,  to  bring  philosophy  to  bear  onl-| 
history  ;  he   believes  in   the  existence  of  a   law  governing  events. 
But  it  is  a  wholly  religious  law ;  it  operates  from  the  outside,  from 
above,  not  from   within,  from  the  conditions  themselves.     It  is  the.  ^ 
old  law  of  religious  and  poetic  morals,  the  law  of  Nemesis.     Every  \* 
fault  brings   on  punishment — particularly  pride,  the  unpardonable  A' 
fault.     The  defeats  of   Xerxes    are  due  to  pride.     The  moral  and  \ 
'  Ainntairc  drs  I^txidcs  ftrecqucs,  1878,  p.  172. 


Classical  Ionic  Prose:   Herodotits  271 

poetic  beauty  of  this  conception,  so  much  like  that  of  Bossuet,  is 
manifest.  But  one  sees,  too,  how  far  it  is  removed  from  the  really/ 
scientific  search  for  immediate  causes,  which  alone  interestej 
Thucydides  and  Polybius. 

4.  Art  in  Herodotus.  —  The  art  of  Herodotus  presents,  like  his 
science,  a  character  intermediate  between  that  of  the  logographers, 
his  predecessors,  and  that  of  the  great  historians  who  followed  him. 
He  is  classic  in  the  perfection  to  which  he  brought  a  certain  type  of 
historical  narrative;  but  the  type  is  more  like  that  of  Charon  or 
Hecatseus  than  like  that  of  Thucydides. 

His  methods  of  exposition  are  essentially  like  those  of  his  prede- 
cessors. In  his  narratives,  side  by  side  with  the  account  of  essentia! 
facts,  one  constantly  finds  short  romances  in  miniature.  In  the  dis- 
courses spoken  by  his  characters,  he  is  less  interested  in  analyzing^ 
their  historical  motives  than  in  making  them  talk  with  amplitude 
and  grace,  like  heroes  of  epic  or  romance.  Then,  from  one  end  of  j 
his  "work  to  the  other,  he  is  always  present,  judging  persons  and 
things,  discussing  oracles,  giving  his  opinion  upon  every  matter  with 
simplicity  and  acumen,  like  Montaigne.  All  this  is  amiable ;  but  it 
belongs  to  an  art  still  primitive,  not  yet  thoroughly  aware  of  the 
conditions  to  which  it  should  conform,  as  the  exact  and  scrupulous 
interpreter  of  science. 

Let  us  come  now  to  what,  in  an  artistic  work  of  history,  is  inde- 
pendent even  of  the  subject-matter  to  be  expressed:  the  invention 
and  the  style. 

Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus  has  very  judiciously  summed  up  the 
originality  of  Herodotus's  composition.^  The  old  logographers,  treat- 
ing a  subject  very  limited,  needed  only  to  an-ange  their  facts  in 
series.  They  wrote  chronicles,  but  did  not  really  "  invent." 
Herodotus  embraced  in  his  work  an  immense  and  very  complicated 
subject.  To  bring  it  into  order  and  unity,  he  needed  both  to  deduce  | 
a  governing  idea,  one  capable  of  organizing  the  confused  mass  of 
facts,  and  to  create  a  vivid  image  from  the  whole.  This  was  his 
work  as  an  artist,  as  a  writer  of  epic.  He  adhered  to  a  leading  idea, 
and  made  all  the  rest  subordinate.  This  was  the  strife  between 
Greeks  and  barbarians  from  Croesus  to  Xerxes.  He  sliadowed  it 
forth  in  the  first  lines,  and  remained  faithful  to  liis  purpose.  Hence 
there  is  in  his  history,  as  in  the  Iliad  or  the  0(b/sseij,  a  true  unity  of 
action.  But  as  in  Homer,  it  is  developed  witliout  haste  or  rigor.  It 
does  not  hurry  to  a  resolution  like  drama,  but  makes  its  way  thither 
slowly  and  freely  through  episodes  and  digressions.  The  author  is 
fully  aware  of  his  romance-like  freedom,  which,  though  wandering, 
^  Critiqup  on  71ii(c>/(UiIps,  5. 


272  Greek  Literature 

is  still  restrained.  He  often  speaks  of  his  digressions.  The  first 
book  is  a  fine  example  of  an  art  in  appearance  capricious,  yet  careful 
never  to  go  wholly  astray.  After  stating  his  theme,  the  Strife 
\  between  Greeks  and  Barbarians,  he  recounts  its  legendary  causes, 
and  then  comes  to  Croesus.  This  is  the  real  beginning  of  the  his- 
tory ;  and  he  dwells  upon  the  fact.  He  glances  over  the  predeces- 
sors of  Croesus,  then  returns  to  the  preparations  for  the  struggle 
which  the  king  of  Lydia  is  about  to  undertake  against  the  Persians. 
Where  the  alliance  of  Sparta  and  Athens  is  sought,  there  is  a  digres- 
sion on  these  two  cities.  When  Cyrus  enters  on  the  scene,  there  is 
another  digression  dealing  with  Persia ;  and  in  connection  with  Per- 
sia, still  others  dealing  with  Ionia  and  Babylon.  This  constitutes  the 
first  book.  The  second  is  a  digression  on  Egypt,  in  connection  with  the 
story  of  Cambyses.  A  part  of  the  fourth  is  a  digression  on  Scythia 
in  connection  with  the  account  about  Darius ;  and  so  on  to  the  end. 
Yet  there  is  a  difference  between  the  first  six  books  and  the  last 
three :  in  the  latter  the  digressions  are  shorter ;  the  continuity  of 
the  prominent  lines  is  more  manifest  as  soon  as  the  decisive  struggle 
begins.  Similarly,  in  the  Odyssey,  the  actors  are  brought  together 
at  the  close  for  the  final  struggle,  and  the  action  proceeds  with  a 
more  regular  movement.  The  composition  of  Herodotus,  however, 
is  not  wholly  like  any  other.  Before  his  time,  no  art  of  composition 
existed ;  after  that,  under  the  influence  of  rhetoric,  its  development 
was  more  rapid  and  methodical.  In  him  a  last  ray  of  epic  poesy 
colors  and  illuminates  the  story.  There  is  a  singular  charm,  even  to- 
day, in  letting  oneself  be  carried  along  on  this  pretty,  sinuous  stream, 
which  flows  slowly  past  agreeable  and  varied  windings  and  numer- 
ous tributaries,  that  one  ascends  and  explores.  The  course  is  not 
swift  and  direct  to  the  destination,  nor  is  there  a  methodic  explora- 
tion of  the  country;  but  one  glides  along  through  interesting  land- 
scapes, at  the  foot  of  strange  old  cities,  and  eventually  gets  a  just 
idea  of  the  region  as  a  whole. 

His  style  was  no  less  novel.  All  the  logographers,  we  are  told, 
wrote  in  nearly  the  same  way ;  but  Herodotus  was  personal.  He 
was  the  first  prose  writer,  according  to  Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus, 
who  gave  Greece  the  idea  that  a  fine  expression  in  prose  could  have 
the  worth  of  a  verse  of  poetry.'  All  the  ancient  critics  laud  his  cap- 
tivating sweetness,  his  charm,  his  grandeur,  and  his  religious 
gravity.  He  is  styled  "  quite  Homeric."  -  Mobility  and  charm  are, 
indeed,  his ;  but  he  does  not  excel  in  the  strictly  oratorical  qualities 
of  Thucydides  or  Demosthenes.  Everything  in  his  writing  tends 
to  attractiveness.  The  dialect  is  Ionic  in  its  basis,  but  less  like 
'  Dionyshis,  Critiqup  on  nmc.  2".  -  Treatise  on  the  Sublime,  13. 


Classical  Ionic  Prose :   Herodotus  273 

the  spoken  language  than  that  of  his  predecessors,  often  contain- 
ing, we  are  told,  forms  borrowed  from  other  sources  to  enrich 
and  embellish  it ;  and  the  vocabulary  is  very  simple  and  concrete, 
but  colored  with  a  tinge  of  nobility  and  beauty  by  an  admixture  of 
terms  or  formulas  borrowed  from  epic  poetry,  religious  parlance,  or 
the  language  of  the  oracles.  But  above  all,  the  sentence-structure 
is  new  and  typical.  It  is  of  polished  simplicity.  The  sentences 
are  often  short,  yet  sometimes  long,  though  not  by  that  periodic 
arrangement  of  members  which  makes  them  a  living  whole,  animated 
by  irresistible  movement  and  filled  with  intense  oratorical  passion. 
Such  sentences  did  not  exist  before  the  time  of  Lysias  and  Isocrates. 
The  long  sentences  in  Herodotus  are  made  so  by  juxtaposition,  full, 
easy,  flowing,  discreetly  animated  with  poetic  rhythms  that  are 
almost  concealed  and  give  the  reader  an  undefined  sensation  like 
that  of  music.^  Long  or  short,  however,  they  all  proceed  with  a 
gentle,  even  slow,  movement.  The  dominant  tone  is  thfLt^of_fa2aiLig,r 
good  humor.  The  movement  of  the  sentence  is  fairly  spontaneous. 
When  the  tone  rises,  the  rhythm  of  the  sentence  expresses  the  writ- 
er's emotion  by  the  sententious  turn  of  the  language,  which,  with  the 
gravity  of  an  oracle,  utters  formulas  teeming  with  significance. 

Although  there  are  numerous  discourses  in  the  history,  and  some 
of  them  very  beautiful,  one  can  appreciate  the  commendation  given 
by  the  ancients  to  Thucydides  for  having  been  the  first  to  compose 
true  speeches  —  h-qii-qyopiax.  The  speeches  of  Herodotus  resemble 
more  closely  conversation ;  and  the  beauty  of  the  most  eloquent 
is  poetic  or  lyric  rather  than  oratorical. 

Some  of  the  narratives  are  very  pretty  and  even  dramatic,  owing 
to  the  depth  of  their  emotion ;  but  he  excels  chiefly  in  picturesque 
description,  in  simple  and  rather  romantic  narratives,  in  all  that, 
to  be  really  superior,  does  not  need  a  maturit}^  of  thought  and  a 
vigor  of  intellect  still  foreign  to  his  art.  His  description  of  the 
battle  of  Salamis  is  less  vigorous  than  the  one  by  yEsch3ius.  That 
of  the  battle  of  Marathon  is  more  connected  than  that  of  Salamis, 
and  is  besides  less  burdened  with  extraneous  matter.  Yet  it  is  easy 
to  imagine  what  Polybius  or  Thucydides  would  have  added  in  tlie 
way  of  technical  precision,  or  subtracted  in  the  way  of  miracle.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  enumeration  of  the  troops  of  Xerxes,  with  their 
bizarre  costumes  and  the  strange  variety  of  their  armor,  is  a  passage 
that  only  Herodotus  could  have  written."  The  same  could  be  said 
of  a  multitude  of  anecdotes,  descriptions  of  laiuLscapes.  monuments, 
or  manners,  and  stories  of  miracles.  In  these  he  gave  his  ever 
wakeful  curiosity  free  play,  with  a  grace  of  imagination  and  a 
1  Demetrius,  Dr  Elorutione,  181.  2  VII,  61-90. 


: 


274  Greek  Literature 

clearness  of  insight  and  expression  that  make  his  work  delightful. 
This  work  initiated  the  period  of  prose  masterpieces.  But  above  all 
it  marked  the  end  of  an  age  ;  it  was  the  crowning  work  of  the  logog- 
raphers.  It  was  the  finest  product  of  the  close  of  Ionic  civilization^) 
at  the  time  when  Atticism,  being  more  vigorous  and  active,  became 
dominant.  Antiquity  Avas  to  offer  no  second  example  of  history 
wholly  engaged,  so  to  speak,  in  epic  poetry  —  popular,  vivid,  with 
a  droll  mixture  of  scientific  alertness,  romantic  imagination,  good 
humor,  acute  discernment,  and  candid  piety.  It  was  to  hear  no 
longer  a  language  that  united  so  originally,  in  perfectly  natural  sim- 
plicity, the  most  exquisite  artlessness  with  the  gravity  of  an  elegiac 
poem. 

5.  Ion  of  Chios.^  —  The  tragic  poet  Ion  of  Chios  was  also  a  prose 
writer  and  somewhat  of  a  historian.  Born  between  484  and  481,  he 
resided  for  many  years  at  Athens,  where  he  formed  the  acquaintance 
of  most  of  the  famous  men  of  the  time.  Besides  tragedies,  he  wrote 
in  Ionic  prose  a  history  of  the  Foundation  of  Chios  (Xt'ou  /crto-ts),  whose 
title  recalls  the  works  of  the  logographers ;  a  treatise  on  the  creation 
of  things,  entitled  Triads  (Tpuxy/xot),  in  which  he  recognized  only  three 
elements ;  and  a  more  original  collection  of  interesting  Memoirs 
('YTToiJLvrjiMiTa.),  of  which  we  have  particularly  a  pleasing  page  concern- 
ing Sophocles.  The  latter  are  amiable  reminiscences,  anecdotes  ex- 
pressive of  gentle  good  humor,  written  in  somewhat  careless  Ionic 
prose,  though  graceful  in  effect.  The  very  short  fragments  make  us 
regret  the  loss  of  the  remainder. 

6.  Ctesias.-  —  We  return  to  history  proper  with  Ctesias.  Born 
in  Cnidus,  in  the  second  half  of  the  fifth  century,  he  belonged  to  a 
fraternity  of  Asclepiads,  who  practised  medicine.  Some  imknowu 
circumstance  made  him  a  prisoner  of  war  in  the  hands  of  the  Per- 
sians. He  became  a  court  physician  at  Susa,  and  lived  there  seven- 
teen years  in  great  honor,  having  access  to  the  official  archives  and 
writing  books  about  the  Orient.  As  physician  of  Artaxerxes,  he  was 
present  at  the  battle  of  Cunaxa  in  401.  Various  writings,  historical, 
geograi)hical,  medical,  are  attributed  to  him.  The  most  celebrated 
were  n,  History  of  Persia  (ncptriKa),  and  a  Description  of  India  ('IvSiKa). 
AVe  have  but  the  merest  fragments  of  his  works,  but  the  ancients 
often  spoke  of  them.  As  a  writer,  he  was  said  to  be  charming,  clear, 
and  amiable,  but  slightly  prolix.  As  a  historian,  he  had  the  merit 
of  knowing  many  things,  and  the  serious  defect  of  lacking  scientific 

1  Fraanionts  in  Miiller,  Fraqm.  Hist.  Grcec.  II,  sup.  cit.  ;  and  in  A116gre, 
De  lone  Ohio,  Paris,  IHOO. 

-  Franinents  in  Miiller.  Ctesioe.  Cnidii  Jicliqnkt,  following  the  Herodotus  in 
the  Didot  Collection  ;  aLso  edited  by  Gilmore,  London,  1888. 


Classical  Ionic  Prose:   Herodotus  275 

insight.  The  value  and  interest  of  his  Persian  History  is  that  he  was 
able  to  read  the  royal  parchments  (8i<t>6€pai  ^acriXxKoi)  in  the  archives 
at  Susa.  Unfortunately,  he  exaggerated  greatly  and  did  not  always 
tell  the  truth ;  for  example,  he  asserts  that  he  saw  with  his  own  eyes 
certain  fantastic  animals  of  India,  or  certain  semi-miraculous  acts. 
This  casts  doubt  upon  the  rest  of  his  work.  Yet  when  he  says 
that  he  has  seen  things,  his  account  is  not  necessarily  false  ;  and  he 
had,  indeed,  seen  things  of  great  interest,  as  in  the  campaign  of 
Cunaxa.  On  the  Persian  manners  of  the  time,  on  the  palace  of 
Artaxerxes,  on  the  chronicles  of  the  courts  and  the  intrigues  of  the 
seraglio,  on  military  events  judged  from  a  Persian  point  of  view,  he 
is  a  witness  worthy  of  attention,  if  not  always  of  credence.  This 
explains  his  great  success.  Not  only  did  Diodorus  copy  him  in 
part ;  but  Plutarch  also,  who  judges  him  severely,  laid  him  under 
heavy  contributions  for  his  life  of  Artaxerxes.  A  sort  of  Herodotus, 
but  venturesome  and  untrustworthy,  he  is  not  devoid  of  merit,  yet 
justifies  at  once  the  Grcecia  mendax  of  Juvenal. 
Xj7.  Philosophy:  Democritus.^  —  Among  the  philosophers  of  the 
time  who  used  the  Ionic  dialect,  one  might  class  the  sophist  Pro- 
tagoras ;  but  his  great  role  as  a  sophist  compels  us  to  study  him 
along  with  the  others.  Accordingly  we  shall  defer  the  study  of  his 
work  to  a  later  chapter.  Democritus,  on  the  contrary,  is  one  of  the 
principal  philosophers  of  this  Ionic  group. 

He  was  born  at  Abdera  about  460.  Possibly  it  was  there  he 
learned  to  know  Leucippus,  who  is  sometimes  regarded  as  a  native 
of  that  place,  and  who  invented  the  atomic  theory.  Democritus 
travelled  over  Egypt,  Asia,  and  Greece,  talking  with  the  learned 
men,  particularly  the  mathematicians,  whom  he  found  little  capable, 
however,  of  giving  him  information;  and  above  all  he  observed 
nature.  When  he  came  to  Athens,  he  was  not  well  understood.  He 
died  old :  at  ninety,  according  to  some,  at  a  hundred,  according  to 
others,  —  consequently  in  the  second  quarter  of  the  fourth  century. 

His  writings  were  very  numerous.  The  chief  appear  to  have  been 
that  entitled  Mcya?  Staxocr/xos,  in  which  his  system  of  nature  was  set 
forth ;  and  a  treatise  on  the  equilibrium  of  the  soul  (Hcpi  evdv/xM^), 
which  was  his  masterpiece  in  morals.  Of  all  these  books,  we  liave 
only  some  short,  but  interesting,  fragments. 

His  system  is  known  from  the  analyses  of  it  found  in  Aristotle. 
Like  Leucippus,  he  saw  the  principle  of  all  things  in  atoms,  infinite 
in  number,  eternal,  indivisible,  alike  in  quality,  but  different  in 
shape  and  size.  These  atoms  move  about  in  the  void,  and  by  group- 
ing themselves  in  various  ways,  form  the  particular  objects  of  exist- 
1  Fragments  in  Mullach,  Fragm.  Phil.  Grcec.  I,  pp.  330-382. 


276  Greek  Literature 

ence.  According  to  liim  the  soul  is  a  fire  composed  of  very  subtile 
atoms.  There  is  a  soul  belonging  to  the  entire  universe.  The  gods 
of  mythology  do  not  exist  any  more  than  does  the  ordering  Spirit  of 
Anaxagoras,  or  the  God-Providence  of  Socrates ;  but  one  may  admit 
that  souls  superior  to  those  of  men,  the  ciSojXa,  that  one  may  see  fit 
to  call  gods,  have  their  abode  in  space  and  sometimes  influence  our 
destiny. 

In  morals,  he  advocated,  like  Xenophon  and  almost  all  other 
Greeks,  the  pursuit  of  happiness  through  cultivation  of  the  reasoning 
faculties,  moderation  of  desires,  and  preference  of  soul  over  body. 
He  evinces  in  every  line  a  penetrating,  acute,  sometimes  even  lofty, 
mind.  He  is  a  careful  observer  of  life,  a  trifle  egotistic  and  perhaps 
cold ;  but  he  is  intelligent  enough  to  understand  that  egotism  is  not 
itself  sufficient,  and  that  the  best  means  of  being  happy  is  to  go 
sometimes  beyond  oneself. 

A  keen  moralist,  he  was  also  a  good  writer.  The  ancients  often 
praised  his  style.  His  fragments,  which  are  short,  comprise  chiefly 
maxims  and  general  truths  that  have  a  brilliant,  sententious  turn.  He 
cannot  always  have  written  thus ;  yet  one  discerns,  in  the  passages 
relating  to  physics,  that  he  must  have  proceeded  generally  by  dog- 
matic, peremptory  assertions,  not  by  dialectical  discussions.  In  this 
and  in  the  general  trend  of  his  doctrine,  he  is  indeed  the  successor 
of  the  first  lonians  —  a  survivor,  as  it  were,  of  the  ancient  method 
in  the  age  of  Socrates  and  the  sophists.  One  can  understand  how, 
when  he  visited  Athens,  people  let  him  pass  unnoticed. 

The  few  thoughts  following  may  give  an  idea  of  his  sententious, 
witty  manner :  — 

"  Cold  and  heat  are  mere  conventions :  in  the  real  world,  there  is 
nothing  but  atoms  and  the  void." 

"We  do  not  really  know:  truth  lies  in  the  depths  of  the  abyss." 

"True  happiness  comes  from  having  a  soul  joyful  in  poverty; 
unhappiness  comes  from  having  a  soul  discontented  amidst  riches." 

"  (loodness  consists  not  in  abstaining  from  injustice,  bat  in  not 
willing  to  be  unjust." 

"  Bodily  beauty  is  an  advantage  worthy  only  of  the  brutes  whom 
no  intelligence  exalts." 

"  Better  not  live  than  be  without  some  good  friend." 

"A  life  without  a  festival  is  a  long  road  without  an  inn." 

•  8.  Medicine:  Hippocrates.'  —  By  the  side  of  philosophy,  medicine 
obtained  an  important  ])lace  in  Ionic  civilization,  and  was,  besides, 
connected  with  philosophy  by  very  close  ties. 

1  Editions  by  Littr^,  10  vols.,  Paris,  18.S9-li=!01,  with  introduction,  various 
essays,  notes,  and  French  translation  ;  and  by  Ilberg  and  Kiihiewein,  Leipsic, 
Teubner,  1894,  and  years  fuUovving,  —  with  important  prolegomena. 


Classical  Ionic  Prose:   Herodotus  277 

Medicine  was  a  very  ancient  science  in  Greece,  Even  in  the 
Homeric  poeras,  the  Greek  army  was  accompanied  by  Podalirius  and 
Machaon,  sons  of  Asclepias,  the  son  of  Apollo.  Apollo  is  often  a 
god  of  healing.  Asclepias  is  preeminently  the  healing  god.  Eesto- 
ration  to  health  was  sought  in  his  sanctuaries  at  Cnidus,  Cos, 
Rhodes,  and  Cyrene.  Around  these  were  formed,  at  an  early  date, 
medical  brotherhoods  with  members  bearing  the  title  of  Asclepiads. 
These  were  neither  priests  of  the  temples  nor  descendants  of  a  single 
mythic  family,  but  lay  physicians,  united  in  a  corporation  organized 
by  the  god,  who  were  at  liberty  to  go  and  practise  their  art  where 
they  chose.  The  art  naturally  consisted  largely  of  empirical 
formulas  and  mysterious  rites.  But  in  the  fifth  century,  the  phi- 
losophers often  attacked  medical  problems  in  a  freer  way,  with  a 
more  scientific  spirit.  The  Pythagorean  Philolaus,  together  with 
Empedocles,  Diogenes  of  Apollonia,  Anaxagoras,  and  Democritus 
often  directed  thither  their  penetrating  thought  and  their  regard 
for  general  laws.  Hence  in  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries,  there  was 
a  wholly  new  development  of  Greek  medicine,  then  the  foremost  in 
the  world.  It  was  in  better  repute  with  the  kings  of  Persia  than 
even  that  of  Egypt,  notwithstanding  the  latter's  long-established 
fame.  The  most  illustrious  physician  of  the  period  is  Hippocrates, 
who  stood  so  high  above  the  others  that  his  name,  like  that  of 
Homer,  finally  denoted  not  so  much  a  man  as  a  form  of  literature. 
Hence  his  very  person  is  not  well  known ;  and  it  is  difficult,  among 
the  writings  that  go  under  his  name,  to  distinguish  those  that  can 
plausibly  be  attributed  to  his  personal  activity. 

Hippocrates  was  born  at  Cos,  and  joined  the  Asclepiads  of  his 
native  city.  He  was  already  famous  at  the  time  when  Plato  rep- 
resents the  action  of  his  Protagoras  as  taking  place,  —  apparently 
the  opening  years  of  the  Peloponnesian  War.  He  attained  advanced 
age,  and  died,  we  are  told,  at  Larissa.  xVfter  him,  his  sons,  his  son- 
in-law  Polybius,  and  his  grandsons  and  great-grandsons  continued 
to  maintain  at  Cos  the  school  which  he  had  founded. 

A  passage  from  the  Phoidrvs  of  Plato  would  seem  to  show  that 
Hip])0crates  wrote  treatises.^  Among  the  seventy-two  works  of  the 
colh'ction,  a  few,  perhaps,  were  his  compositions.  In  the  oldest 
ones  are  found  his  thought,  if  not  liis  style.  This  is  true  of  the 
Ancitat  Medicine;  the  Airs,  Waters,  and  Places;  the  Prognostics ; 
the  Jiegimen  for  Agues;  the  Epidemics  (Books  1  and  III),  and  the 
xiphorisms. 

Tlie  style  is  scarcely  to  be  considered,  as  these  works  have  no 
literary   pretensions.      The   most   interesting,   however,  from    this 

1  Phixdrns.  p.  270  C. 


278  Greek  Literature 

point  of  view,  is  the  treatise  on  Ancient  Medicine,  in  which  the 
author  aims  to  expound  the  general  and  human  side  of  medical 
science.  We  may  be  content  with  noting  its  archaic  Ionian  sim- 
plicity, which  tends  in  no  way  to  eloquence,  yet  does  not  exclude 
adroitness  and  discretion. 

More  important  than  the  style  is  the  matter.  The  writings  show 
an  interesting  mixture  of  a  spirit  already  scientific,  with  errors  due 
to  the  newness  of  the  science  and  the  difficulty  of  complying  with 
scientific  laws  without  losing  patronage.  The  author  has  very 
clearly  and  profoundly  conceived  that  the  laws  of  nature  are  con- 
stant, and  alone  active;  that  to  explain  extraordinary  facts  by  a 
particular  divine  intervention  is  sheer  waste  of  words ;  ^  that  medi- 
cine arose  from  observation,  at  first  instinctive,  and  later  reflective 
and  methodical ;  and  that  it  cannot  progress  without  observation, 
nor  without  distrusting  arbitrary  principles  and  hypotheses.^  This 
is  admirable ;  and  Hippocrates,  in  fact,  by  the  application  of  such 
a  method  made  useful  discoveries  in  the  description  of  certain  path- 
ological facts.  But  in  an  adjoining  passage  he  stumbles  surpris- 
ingly :  he  does  not  wish  use  made  of  the  terms  dry  and  moist,  but 
constantly  employs  sour  and  flat ;  and  he  often  reasons  on  complex 
phenomena  with  a  dauntless  candor  that  does  not  suppose  difficulties 
possible.  These  inevitable  contradictions  are  characteristic  of  the 
time.  But  it  is  no  less  true  that  these  old  medical  books  are  among 
those  that  do  most  honor  to  the  Greece  of  the  fifth  century.  If  it 
is  true  that  the  history  of  literature  can  have  no  other  interest  than 
that  of  the  history  of  thought,  Hippocrates  deserves  mention  by  the 
side  of  his  contemporaries  whom  we  have  treated,  or  are  to  treat,  — 
Democritus,  Socrates,  and  Thucydides. 

^  Airs,  c.  22.  2  Ancient  Medicine,  cc.  1,  2,  14,  etc. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

SOPHISTRY    AND   RHETORIC.     ANTIPHON;    SOCRATES 

1.  Formation  of  Attic  Prose.  2.  Rhetoric  in  Sicily.  3.  The  Sophists.  4.  The 
Leading  Sophists :  Protagoras.  6.  Gorgias.  6.  Minor  Sophists.  7.  Anti- 
phon.     8.  Socrates.i 

1.  Formation  of  Attic  Prose.  —  Whatever  may  have  been  the 
merit  of  Ionic  prose,  it  had  not  all  the  excellences  of  a  great  classic 
style.  The  History  of  Herodotus  is  a  masterpiece,  but  its  grace 
is  childlike  and  incomplete.  It  has  not  the  beauty  and  strength  of 
manhood.  Vigor  of  composition,  precise  analysis,  power  in  pathos, 
and  sober,  inspiring  eloquence  are  wanting.  True  Greek  prose  began 
to  be  produced  in  Athens  between  430  and  410. 

The  qualities  of  pure,  strong,  analytic  reason,  which  are  essential 
to  prose,  ai)peared  in  Athens  earlier  than  in  the  rest  of  Greece.  We 
have  already  noticed  traces  of  it  in  Solon,  and  have  shown  that 
Athens,  situated,  so  to  speak,  midway  between  Doric  and  Ionic  cul- 
tures, heiress  of  a  long-existing  civilization,  had  the  privilege,  from 
the  beginning  of  its  literary  life,  of  appearing  with  full-fledged 
reason.  But  Athens  at  that  time  did  not  write  prose.  The  elegy, 
then  the  drama,  gave  its  reasoning  powers  their  first  occasions  to  dis- 
play themselves.  Athens  took  no  interest  in  philosophy,  nor  had 
she  any  historians.  Later  on,  her  statesmen  were  eloquent,  but  did 
not  at  first  write  their  orations.  The  oratory  of  Themistocles  was 
transmitted  only  by  tradition.  Pericles,  the  elder  contemporary  of 
the  first  Attic  prose  writers,  did  not  revise  any  of  those  speeches 
that  excited  the  admiration  of  both  partisans  and  opponents.  The 
comic  poets  often  remarked  the  force  of  his  eloquence,  that  made  the 
tribune  resound  as  with  the  roar  of  thunder,  and  that,  after  the  vic- 
tory, left  in  the  mind  of  its  auditors  the  impression  of  a  deep  and 
penetrating  thought.  Thucydides  paints  admirably  its  political 
philosophy.  Scattered  expressions,  preserved  by  Plutarch  and 
others,  show  the  poetic,  picturesque  grace  and  vigor  sometimes  adorn- 

1  Bini.ioGKAFHY  :  The  fragments  from  flie  sophists  are  published  in  Mullach, 
Fragm.  Phil.  Grace.  II.  There  is  a  good  edition  of  Antiphon  by  Blass,  Lcipsic, 
1881,  containing  also  the  declamations  attributed  to  Gorgias.  Others  by  Matz- 
ner,  RtTlin,  1838  ;  and  Van  Herwerden,  1883.  Cf.  O.  Navarre.  La  lihetorir/ne 
uvant  Ariatote,  Paris,  1900. 

279 


280  Greek  Literature 

ing  its  thought.  Speaking  of  the  warriors  who  died  in  battle  in 
the  year  431,  Pericles  said,  "  The  city  has  lost  her  youth,  the  year 
has  lost  its  spring-time."^  Again,  in  referring  to  those  who  died  be- 
fore Samos,  he  styled  them  "  gods  invisible,  whose  presence  is  known 
because  of  the  honors  they  receive  and  the  benefits  they  confer."  ^ 
He  was  called  the  Olympian.  Plato  spoke  of  his  reason  as  sublime 
and  convincing.^  It  is  probable  that  spoken  eloquence  reached  its 
culminating  point  in  Pericles.  But  he  died  without  writing  anything, 
according  to  Plutarch,  except  the  decrees  that  he  enacted. 

Attic  prose  literature  arose  wholly  out  of  the  movement  of  ideas 
known  in  the  middle  of  the  fifth  century  as  sophistry  or  rhetoric. 
Not  till  then  did  the  orators  begin  to  write  their  speeches.  History, 
which  was  almost  a  form  of  oratory,  arose  at  the  same  time ;  and 
philosophy,  coming  no  less  directly  from  sophistry  and  rhetoric, 
arose  because  of  the  opposition  which  these  two  arts  provoked  in 
certain  minds.  Thus  Attic  prose,  in  its  three  essential  forms,  had 
its  origin  in  this  curious  intellectual  revolution,  which  began  outside 
of  Athens,  but  attained  there  its  importance,  owing  to  the  city's 
influence. 

2.  Rhetoric  in  Sicily.  —  The  methodic  study  of  oratory,  the  the- 
ory of  the  processes  by  which  one  may  compose  persuasive  discourse, 
w^as  begun  in  Sicily.  Aristotle  informs  us  of  the  occasion  for  the 
rise  of  rhetoric.  After  the  expulsion  of  the  tyrants  in  465,  numer- 
ous lawsuits  were  begun  to  recover  the  property  which  they  had 
illegally  confiscated.''  The  practice  of  judicial  debate  gave  rise  to  a 
theory  of  pleading.  'Corax  and  then  Tisias,  wrote  its  rules  in  trea- 
tises (re'xr'ai)  which  Aristotle  still  read.  Moreover,  they  kept  a  school 
of  rhetoric,  and  were  paid  by  their  pupils  for  lessons  whose  practical 
value  was  well  recognized. 

AVhat  was  the  nature  of  this  instruction  ?  The  aim  of  rhetoric, 
according  to  Corax  and  Tisias,  is  to  effect  persuasion.  This  results 
from  plausibility  (to  et/co's).  One  need  not,  then,  search  for  the  truth, 
but  only  for  the  way  to  present  a  given  idea  so  as  to  make  it  seem 
plausible  to  auditors.^  To  Plato,  this  distinction  seemed  immoral ; 
yet  it  is  not  so  in  itself.  The  truest  idea  will  not  be  accepted  by  the 
public  unless  the  orator  can  make  it  plausible.  In  the  interest  of 
truth,  an  orator  must  study  the  art  of  persuasion.  But  to  reach  the 
result,  Corax  and  Tisias  did  not  make  a  full  analysis  of  the  different 
kinds  of  reasoning  in  discourse,  as  Aristotle  did  later.  They  pro- 
ceeded in  a  manner  more  concrete  and  simple,  and  also  more  practi- 

1  Aristotle,  Jihrt.  I.  7,  .34.  ^  Stesimbrotus  in  Plutarch,  Pericles,  8,  6. 

3  T6  0Tp-q\6vovt>  TovTo  Kai  T(\e<Tiovpy6i>  {I'htudrus.  p.  "270  A). 

*  Aristotle  apud  Cic,  linitus,  46.  "  Plato,  Phcedrus,  267,  272,  etc. 


Sophistry  and  Rhetoric  281 

cally  effective.  Like  modern  teachers  of  rhetoric,  they  proceeded  by 
applications  and  examples,  making  their  pupils  study  a  typical  ques- 
tion from  both  its  points  of  view,  that  of  the  accusation  and  that  of 
the  defence.^  Caring  little  for  art  or  style,  they  arranged  the  essen- 
tial ideas  of  a  plea  in  an  order  easy  to  comprehend.  They  distin- 
guished exordium,  discussion,  and  possibly  narration.  They  had 
their  disciples  commit  to  memory  model  pleas  and  plans  of  argu- 
ment ;  and  hence,  according  to  Aristotle,  made  rapid  progress. 

In  a  word,  the  nascent  rhetoric  was  already  very  practical  and 
clever,  but  neither  philosophic  nor  artistic.  Its  influence  would 
probably  have  been  small,  if  it  had  not  met,  at  this  very  moment, 
with  nascent  sophistry,  which  took  possession  of  it  and  increased 
its  power  for  action  tenfold. 

3.  Sophistry. — The  modern  word  "sojihist"  has  come  to  mean  a 
man  who  employs  specious  reasoning.  In  Greek  ao<l>i(rT^<;  already  had 
this  meaning  in  the  fourth  century,  particularly  in  Aristotle.  But 
that  is  a  derived  sense.  Properly  the  o-o<^t(rTi;9  is  he  who  makes  a 
profession  of  ao<f>La,  or  science ;  and  as  the  word  science  denoted 
things  very  different  at  different  periods,  it  happens  that  Pindar, 
for  example,  calls  those  persons  sophists  who  cultivate  poetry.  But 
in  the  middle  of  the  fifth  century,  the  title  was  usually  applied  to 
a  group  of  men,  prominent  among  whom  were  Gorgias  and  Pro- 
tagoras, who  professed  to  bring  to  Greece  a  new  science,  boldly 
assumed  the  appellation,  still  honorable,  of  sophists  and  offered  to 
teach  the  science  for  money. 

Their  science,  was,  in  fact,  very  new.  First,  it  fairly  repudiated 
all  research  into  the  nature  of  things  and  about  the  gods.  Gorgia-s 
promulgated  three  propositions  :  1.  Absolute  being  does  not  exTs?. 
2.  If  it  did  exist,  it  would  be  unknowable.  3.  If  it  were  knowable, 
the  knowledge  of  it  could  not  be  communicated.  Protagoras  said 
that  man  is  the  measure  of  all  things,  and  that  the  existence  or 
non-existence  of  things  has  no  reality  apart  from  him ;  in  other 
words,  that  the  universe  is  only  the  collection  of  ideas  which  man 
makes  of  it.  Wliat  was  the  object  of  true  science  ?  Practical  life 
simply,  things  useful  for  man.  There  were  sophists  who  discoursed 
about  strategy,  about  a  battle  between  hoplitos,  about  war.  Hippias 
professed  to  speak  on  all  subjects  and  to  know  all  professions;  The 
highest  use  of  science  was  naturally  to  give  the  individual  '•'  civic  vir- 
tue,*' as  Gorgias  said;  that  is,  the  combination  of  qualities  enabling  a 
citizen  to  assume  a  leadership  in  civic  affairs.  Among  such  qualities, 
one  of  the  chief  Avas  the  power  of  speech.  The  art  of  speech,  in  its 
two  principal  forms  of  eristic  and  rhetoric,  therefore,  was  one  of  the 
1  Aristotle,  ^oxptffTiKol  (Xeyxoi-,  c.  34. 


282  Greek  Literature 

essential  aims  of  sophistic  instruction.  Eristic,  born  in  the  school 
of  Elea,  was  the  art  of  subtle  discussion  between  professional  de- 
baters —  or,  in  fact,  of  mental  gymnastics.  Rhetoric  was  the  art  of 
public  speech  which  enabled  an  orator  to  win  his  case  before  a  politi- 
cal body  or  a  tribunal.  Little  difference  whether  the  case  were  good 
or  bad ;  in  the  teaching  of  Protagoras,  no  case  was  in  itself  good  or 
bad,  but  was  what  one  made  it  seem.  The  triumph  of  art,  according  to 
a  maxim  constantly  repeated  by  the  sophists,  was  precisely  "  to  make 
the  worse  appear  the  better  reason  "  (jov  ^tto)  Xo'yov  KpeiTTto  irouiv)  ; 
in  other  words,  to  give  enough  plausibility  to  a  thesis  which  at  first 
seems  absurd  to  make  it  win  the  favor  of  an  audience.  The  rhetoric 
of  the  sophists  joined  that  of  Sicily  at  this  point,  but  with  quite 
different  philosophical  and  social  principles. 

At  Athens,  sophistry  attained  prodigious  success ;  it  turned  even 
the  hardest  heads.  This  success  is  not  difficult  to  understand. 
The  disdain  of  the  sophists  for  metaphysics  could  not  have  dis- 
pleased the  Athenian  mind,  which  was  little  inclined  to  speculative 
research.  The  Athenian  took  less  interest  in  nature  than  in  the 
city,  less  in  science  than  in  politics  and  morals.  Even  the  meta- 
physics of  Plato  is  closely  allied  to  morals.  The  Athenian  was  pre- 
eminently a  "  political  animal."  At  this  time  particularly,  he 
turned  his  practical  activity  in  every  direction  with  indefatigable 
ardor;  and  sophistry  gave  him  the  very  best  means  of  rendering 
his  activity  more  adroit  and  surer  of  success.  The  subtle,  captious 
reasoning  called  eristic,  far  from  disgusting  him,  amused  him  and 
appealed  to  him  on  his  weak  side.  The  prestige  of  rhetoric  dazzled 
him,  and  the  art  seemed  to  be  an  instrument  as  well  as  an  adorn- 
ment. The  whole  generation  of  the  time  of  the  Peloponnesian  War 
was  subject  to  the  spell  of  the  new  masters.  There  was  not  a  youth 
with  wealth  and  ambition  who  did  not  seek  to  gain  possession  of 
the  mysterious  force  at  their  disposal  —  not  a  person  fond  of  elegant 
language  who  did  not  admire  their  oratorical  phrases. 

Sophistry  has  been  very  diversely  judged.  In  general  it  is  con- 
demned, as  it  was  by  Plato  and  Aristotle,  in  the  name  of  true 
science  and  true  morality.  Yet  it  has  its  defenders,  particularly 
among  English  scholars.  They  have  pointed  out  the  personal  hon- 
esty of  Gorgias  and  Protagoras,  the  noble  moral  discourses  of  l^rod- 
icus,  the  encyclopaedic  knowledge  of  Hippias,  the  elegant  maxims 
of  Alcidamas,  and  the  wise  reserve  of  them  all  respecting  insoluble 
questions.  Whatever  the  part  of  truth  in  these  apologies,  one  may 
say  that  sophistry  was  above  all  a  school  of  theoretical  and  practical 
scepticism,  and  hence  dangerous.  Its  grave  error  lay  in  its  complete 
indifference  to  truth,  its  aversion  to  all  patient,  sincere  research,  its 


Sophistry  and  Rhetoric  283 

great  fondness  for  the  jingle  of  words,  its  anxiety  for  persuasion 
rather  than  knowledge,  its  attachment  to  appearance  —  to  the  super- 
ficial, but  immediate,  effect.  It  lacked  intellectual  seriousness  and 
probity.  Herein  it  certainly  wrought  great  evil  to  Greek  character, 
which  had  no  need  for  such  instruction  and  profited  by  it  later  only 
too  well. 

One  must,  however,  recognize  also  the  merits  of  sophistry.  If  it 
accomplished  nothing  for  science,  it  did  much  for  the  art  of  dis-' 
course.  The  oratory  of  Thucydides  and  Demosthenes  derived  from 
it  much  additional  beauty.  Even  the  exquisite  perfection  of  Plato, 
though  so  different  from  it  and  so  resolutely  opposed  to  its  principles, 
probably  could  not  have  been  attained  without  its  precedents.  Athens 
really  formed  her  rhetoric  under  the  direction  of  the  sophists.  The 
art  came  forth  mature,  flexible,  free  from  all  difficulties  of  thought 
and  style,  capable  of  producing  truly  eloquent  Avorks  in  prose.  He- 
rodotus, as  we  have  seen,  was  not  strictly  eloquent.  The  best  orators 
did  not  write  their  speeches.  Sophistry,  making  a  methodic,  passion- 
ate study  of  discourse,  taught  the  orators  the  art  of  writing,  as  they 
sat  in  their  chair,  pen  in  hand,  under  the  happy  inspiration  of  the 
tribune,  a  language  terse,  concentrated,  perfected  in  form,  worthy 
of  eternal  existence.  Owing  to  Gorgias  and  his  rivals,  in  fact,  the 
improvising  orators  were  taught  to  write. 

4.  The  Leading  Sophists :  Protagoras.  —  The  first  in  date,  at  least 
with  respect  to  the  time  of  his  instruction  at  Athens,  if  not  the  first 
in  birth,  is  Protagoras.  He  was  born  at  Abdera,  probably  about 
485.  After  studying  the  philosophy  of  Heraclitus,  he  abandoned  it 
and  began,  about  thirty,  to  practise  the  profession  of  a  sophist. 
Going  from  city  to  city  to  give  lessons  in  eristic,  he  attracted  audi- 
tors and  disciples  in  multitude.  The  beginning  of  Plato's  Protag- 
oras gives  a  vivid  picture  of  the  enthusiasm  and  extraordinary 
respect  he  inspired  among  the  youth.  He  made  long  visits  to 
Athens,  and  knew  Pericles,  who  loved,  we  are  told,  to  discuss  with 
him.  He  became  very  rich.  About  the  age  of  seventy,  a  charge 
of  impiety  obliged  him  to  leave  Athens.  He  lost  his  life  by  ship- 
wreck soon  after. 

The  writings  of  Protagoras  were  numerous.  The  most  important 
seem  to  have  been  a  work  entitled  Truth.  ('AAr;^eia),  in  which  he  set 
forth  his  metaphysical  doubts ;  and  a  treatise  on  eristic,  whose  title 
is  not  definitely  known.  We  have  too  few  fragments  of  his  work 
to  be  able  to  appreciate  him  correctly  as  a  writer.  He  wrote  in 
Ionic,  and  his  style  retained  something  of  Ionic  grace.  He  pro- 
fessed to  be  rather  a  dialectician  than  an  orator.  He  was  the  first 
man  to  study  grammatical  questions  and  so  founded  Greek  gram- 


284  Greek  Literature 

mar.  Although  he  wished  to  be  principally  a  master  of  eristic,  he 
was  very  eloquent.  The  Protagoras  of  Plato  clearly  gives  the  idea 
of  what  a  lesson  by  Protagoras  might  be :  first  an  allegorical  myth, 
then  a  logical  discourse,  and  finally  an  explanatory  commentary  on 
some  verses  of  Simonides ;  the  whole  ample,  easy,  pretty  in  appear- 
ance, possessed  of  loftiness  and  acumen,  with  nothing  that  would 
shock  common  sense — yet  void  of  the  philosophic  precision  demanded 
by  Socrates. 

f  5.  ■  Gorgias.  1 —  While  Protagoras  was  chiefly  a  teacher  of  reason- 
ing, Gorgia«^ished  to  be  an  orator  and  teacher  of  rhetoric.  Born 
at  Leontini  in  Sicily,  about  485,  he  is  said  to  have  studied  under 
Empedocles  and  Tisias.  In  427  he  was  chosen  by  his  countrymen 
to  go  on  an  embassy  to  Athens.  It  was  his  first  visit  to  the  city. 
He  won  extraordinary  fame  there,  and  died  at  nearly  one  hundred, 
having  devoted  all  his  life  to  his  art.  It  made  him  prodigiously 
wealthy. 

To  him  were  attributed  a  philosophical  work  ironically  called  On 
Nature,  or  the  Non-Being  {llepl  ^wew?  rj  tov  /xt)  ovtos)  ;  various  essays 
on  rhetoric ;  and  some  model  orations  (the  Pythian  and  the  Ohjinpian, 
in  which  he  exhorted  the  Greeks  to  peace ;  the  Funeral  Oration  for 
the  Athenian  Warriors;  and  Eulogies  of  personages  mj-thological  or 
real —  some  serious,  others  mere  paradoxes  and  witticisms  of  the  class 
called  TTcuyvta).  There  remain  under  his  name,  besides  various  frag- 
ments, two  of  these  iraiyvui,  which  the  best  critics  incliue  to  believe 
authentic.  If  to  them  are  joined  the  admirable  imitatious  of  his 
style  made  by  Plato,  one  may  say  that  we  know  Gorgias  fairly  well ; 
for,  in  any  event,  he  is  not  very  difficult  to  understand. 

His  characteristic  is  that  he  wished  to  be  a  virtuoso  in  discourse. 
He  is  not  merely  a  dialectician,  occupied  with  the  skeleton  of  speecli, 
but  aims  at  beauty  of  language.  He  endeavors  to  charm  the  ear  as 
much  as  to  amuse  the  mind.  He  loves  pomp  and  grandeur,  and  dis- 
dains judicial  oratory  as  too  simple.  He  prefers  the  political  type, 
especially  that  called  epidictic  or  model,  which  allowed  him  to  dis- 
play boldly  all  the  magnificence  and  delicacy  of  his  style.  However, 
among  many  affectations  and  puerilities,  he  has  some  very  just  opin- 
ions. He  had  a  feeling  for  certain  of  the  beauties  suited  to  prose, 
and  exercised  a  manifest  influence  on  even  so  great  a  writer  as  Tliu- 
cydides.     It  will  be  well,  accordingly,  to  study  him  somewhat  closer. 

His  innovations  concern  the  vocabulary  and  the  sentence-structure. 
Though  Ionic  by  birth,  as  Leontini  was  a  colony  of  Xaxos,  he  wrote 
in  the  Attic  dialect.  Thereby  he  rendered  homage  to  the  growing 
influence  of  Atticism  and  showed  a  just  presentiment  of  the  future. 
But  the  Attic  he  used  was  not  the  simple  spoken  language.     It  was 


Sophistry  and  Rhetoric  285 

a  composite  product,  judiciously  made  up,  on  the  one  hand,  of  poetic 
and  sonorous  old  words  that  gave  nobility  to  the  style,  and  on  the 
other,  of  new  words  created  by  the  author,  or  renewed  through  some 
unusual  employment,  designed  to  express  finer  shades  of  meaning 
than  those  of  ordinary  parlance.  He  loved  abstract  words,  substan- 
tives derived  from  verbs,  and  adjectives  and  participles  used  sub- 
stantively. In  the  construction  of  his  sentences,  he  set  to  work  in 
the  same  spirit.  Pomp,  beauty,  nobility  on  the  one  hand,  and  on 
the  other,  vigor  and  precision,  were  his  aims.  He  could  not  yet 
build  an  ample,  flexible  period,  capable  of  giving  his  language 
grandeur  and  weight  (gravitas).  But  he  saw  that  oratory  needs  both 
force  and  grace,  and  so  l>e  sought  a  form  of  expression  that  had  both 
strength  and  precision.  He  discovered  antithesis  (17  avTiKUfxevrj  Xiiii), 
the  form  so  well  adapted  to  Greek  genius,  which  always  loved  to 
express  its  most  precise  opinions  by  opposing  them  (jiiv,  8f) ;  what 
had  till  then  been  mere  instinct  was  transformed  into  a  process. 
Besides,  Gorgias  emphasized  and  underlined  his  oppositions  by  ini- 
tial or  final  assonances  (o/xoioKaTapKra,  o/AotoTcAcvra),  by  equalit}-  in 
the  number  of  syllables  (Trdpia-a),  by  analogous  verbal  formations. 
-VThe  great  defect  of  his  writing  is  the  emptiness  of  his  thought.  He 
very  properly  directed  Attic  prose  into  the  path  of  nobility,  preci- 
sion, and  oratorical  harmony ;  but  he  could  not  follow  along  the  path, 
because  he  had  only  the  appearance  of  the  force  necessary — had 
nothing  serious  to  say.  His  sentences,  though  full  in  words,  are 
wanting  in  ideas ;  his  abundance  is  sterile ;  his  constructions  have 
too  many  false  windows.  His  luxuriance  is  cold  and  heavy,  as  he 
has  only  processes  without  inspiration.  His  magnificence  is  stiff  and 
monotonous,  and  quickly  fatigues.  On  the  whole,  his  merit  is  in 
having  been  for  Thucydides  almost  what  Isocrates  was  for  Demos- 
thenes, or  Balzac  for  Bossuet.  He  rendered  the  instrument  flexible 
and  put  it  into  the  hands  of  the  great  artist.  The  role,  though 
secondary,  is  important. 

6.  Lesser  Sophists.  —  Besides  Gorgias  and  Protagoras,  still  other 
sophists,  though  inferior,  had  considerable  influence. 

Prodicus  of  ('eos  was  fifteen  or  twenty  years  younger  than  Pro- 
tagoras. He  wrote  on  various  subjects,  but  was  celebrated  chiefly 
as  a  professor  of  morals  and  style.  He  taught  for  many  years  at 
Athens  and  grew  rich  there.  His  morals  were  traditional,  thougli 
ingeniously  relieved  by  fine  observation  and  hapjiy  fancy.  Xeno- 
phon,  who  may  have  been  his  pupil,  draws  his  inspiration  from  him, 
in  narrating  the  myth  of  Heracles  choosing  between  Vice  and  Vir- 
tue.^    Socrates,  without  appreciating  him  as  a  man  of  learning,  rec- 

1  Mem.  II,  1,  21  ff. 


286  Greek  Literature 

ognized  his  merit  in  practical  morals  and  willingly  sent  him  such 
of  his  disciples  as  he  found  lacking  in  true  philosophic  spirit.  His 
studies  on  language  seem  to  have  been  very  interesting.  He  gave 
extreme  attention  to  the  precision  of  words  {opdor-q'i  ovofiaruyv),  or  the 
distinction  of  synonymes  and  the  analysis  of  the  precise  meaning  of 
terms.  Plato  constantly  represents  him  as  engaged  in  such  re- 
searches, and  is  much  amused  thereby.  The  idea  he  gives  us  of 
Prodicus  is  that  of  a  punctilious  pedant,  limiting  himself  to  the 
distinguishing  of  words  and  never  going  farther.^  The  portrait  is 
sportive ;  yet  in  this  effort  for  precision  not  by  any  means  all  was 
bad.  Thucydides,  Xenophon,  and  Isocrates  often  imitated  the  dis- 
tinctions of  Prodicus,  who  certainly  taught  his  successors  to  use,  in 
their  choice  of  terms,  a  more  just  and  delicate  precision.  And  this, 
in  all  truly  classic  prose,  is  fundamental. 

Hippies  of  Elis,  who  occupies  a  rather  important  place  in  Plato's 
dialogues,  seems  to  have  been  somewhat  finical,  owing  to  his  ency- 
clopaedic pretensions.  He  spoke  on  all  subjects  —  the  heavens, 
geometry,  syllables,  rhythms,  Homeric  genealogies,  morals  —  in  a 
redundant,  florid  style,  much  richer  in  words  than  in  ideas.  With 
all  this,  he  knew  how  to  make  his  own  clothes  and  foot-wear ! 

Let  us  mention  still  another  rather  eccentric  sophist,  Stesdmbrotus 
of  Thasos,  who,  for  money,  gave  lessons  in  morals,  while  explaining 
Homer.  He  was  slightly  different  from  the  others,  estranged  from 
rhetoric,  an  enemy  of  contemporary  institutions,  of  the  manners  of 
the  time,  and  of  democracy,  an  adversary  of  Pericles  and  an  admirer 
of  Cimon.  He  wrote  on  Themistodes,  Tlmcydides,'^  and  Pericles,  a 
treatise  whose  statements  Plutarch  often  found  of  use. 

7.  Antiphon.  — The  sophists  advanced  considerably  the  theory  of 
eloquence  and  style.  But  aside  from  their  models  they  loft  no  spec- 
imens of  discourse.  The  honor  of  beginning  the  list  of  Ten  Orators 
in  the  Alexandrian  Oanon  was  reserved  for  an  Athenian  of  the  old 
type,  an  orator  and  rhetorician,  contemporary  with  Gorgias  and  Pro- 
tagoras, though  somewhat  younger.  This  was  Antiphon  of  Rham- 
nus,  tlie  teacher  and  immediate  predecessor  of  Thucydides.^ 

Antiphon,  the  son  of  So])hilus,  was  born  in  the  Attic  deme  of 
Rhamnus  in  480.  Though  his  life  is  almost  wholly  unknown,  it  was 
probably  devoted  exclusively  to  his  art.  The  end  of  his  life  is  well 
known  from  Thucydides  :  having  taken  an  important  part  in  the 
aristocratic  cons})iracy  of  the  Four  Hundred,  he  was  embroiled  in 

1  Soe  especially  Protngo7-ns,  p.  .3.37  A-C. 
-  He  treats  him  as  a  Htatesmaii,  not  ;i.s  a  hi.storian. 

^Consult:  Cucuel,  Essai  sur  le  langxie  et  le  style  de  Vorateur  Antiphon, 
Paris,  188(3. 


Antipho7i  287 

their  ruin.  Thucydides  represents  him  as  the  real  head  of  the  con- 
spiracy. After  the  reestablishment  of  the  democracy,  he  was 
accused  of  treason  and  condemned  to  death  (411).  In  connection 
with  this  account,  Thucydides  has  given  a  celebrated  picture  of  An- 
tiphon,  which,  in  the  vivacity  of  its  admiration,  breaks  from  the 
ordinary  reserve  of  the  historian.^  "  Antiphon,"  he  says,  "  was  not 
inferior  in  uprightness  to  any  Athenian  of  his  time,  and  he  was  su- 
perior in  the  power  to  conceive  and  express  his  thoughts.  He  did 
not  speak  in  the  assembly  nor,  except  when  necessary,  before  the 
tribunal,  because  the  fame  of  his  eloquence  put  the  multitude  in 
opposition  to  him.  But  those  who  had  cases  to  defend  before  the 
people  or  before  judges,  found  in  him  a  most  excellent  counsellor. 
His  oration  in  his  own  defence,  when  prosecuted  for  his  part  in  the 
Revolution,  is  certainly  the  most  eloquent  plea  that  has  ever  been 
pronounced." 

Antiquity  read  numerous  works  of  different  kinds  attributed  to 
Antiphon  —  works  of  oratorical  instruction,  speeches,  and  writings  of 
an  epidictic  and  sophistic  nature*.  These  last,  however,  have  generally 
been  ascribed,  since  Didymus,  to  another  Antiphon  than  the  orator. 

Among  the  writings  of  the  first  group,  we  no  longer  have  the 
Treatise  on  Rhetoric  (^^x^r^  peTopLKrj),  which,  however,  is  sometimes 
considered  apocryphal ;  nor  the  collection  of  Exordiums  and 
Perorations  (JipooifXLa  koX  cVt'Aoyot) ,  one  of  the  oldest  examples  of  a 
type  of  collections,  wonderfully  meeting  the  needs  of  practical  in- 
struction, and  abundantly  multiplied  later.  The  pleas  of  the  Attic 
orators  show  that  the  exordiums  and  perorations  were  early  fixed  in 
their  essential  elements,  and  that  exordiums  were  sometimes  trans- 
ferred almost  literally  from  one  speech  to  another.  We  have  a  very 
curious  work  entitled  Tetralogies.  There  are  three  groups  of  four 
orations  each  :  accusation,  defence,  reply  of  the  accusation,  reply  of 
the  defence.  Critics  contest  the  authenticity  of  the  Tetralogies,  but 
without  any  decisive  reason.  Others  deny  that  they  have  any  merit 
worth  consideration.  But  this  is  a  grave  error.  The  l^etralogies  aire 
not  true  discourses,  and  cannot  be  expected  to  have  the  merit  of  those 
really  delivered  before  judges.  They  are  scholastic  exercises  or 
schemes  of  discourse.  Remembering  this,  one  must  recognize  that 
the  art  in  them  is  really  remarkable.  The  absence  of  concrete 
matter  no  doubt  makes  them  seem  like  a  fantastic  jest,  which  one 
is  tempted  to  call  frivolous.  But  these  subtle,  penetrating  models 
are  designed  to  show  how,  from  a  given  situation,  one  can  obtain 
arguments  favoring  a  s})ecific  thesis.  Their  subtlety  of  thought  is 
pushed  to  its  limit,  yet  witliout  becoming  pure  mental  jargon.  The 
1  Thucydides,  VIII,  08. 


288  Greek  Literature 

argumentation,  however  fine-spun,  could  be  used  almost  without 
change  for  a  real  plea.  Let  us  take  an  example.  A  man  has  been 
killed ;  by  whom  ?  He  has  not  been  pillaged ;  his  slave,  who  died 
later,  accused  one  of  the  deceased  man's  enemies.  Both  circum- 
stantial and  real  evidence  conspire  against  the  accused.  Antiphon 
makes  use  of  these  two  elements  of  proof  in  turn  and  then  refutes 
them.  Without  analyzing  the  four  speeches,  it  will  suffice,  for  com- 
prehending his  method,  to  consider  by  itself  a  single  idea  that  one 
can  trace  from  discourse  to  discourse  :  1.  (the  Prosecution)  it  was 
not  robbers  who  committed  the  deed,  for  the  victim  was  not  pil- 
laged ;  2.  (the  Defence)  perhaps  the  robbers  were  interrupted ; 
3.  (the  Prosecution)  if  they  had  been  interrupted,  the  survivors 
would  testify  to  the  fact ;  4.  (the  Defence)  the  survivors  have  been 
terrified  and  hence  have  remained  quiet.  There  is  no  real  plea 
which  does  not  contain  reasoning  of  this  sort ;  and  Antiphon's  work 
was  not  frivolous  when  he  habituated  his  disciples  to  formulating 
something  akin  to  it  in  whatever  case  they  had  to  plead.  Other 
arguments,  somewhat  psychological  in  character,  are  equally  inter- 
esting. The  orator  knew  human  nature  in  general ;  he  knew  also 
his  contemporaries,  knew  that  a  judge  is  always  inclined  to  dread 
the  responsibility  of  an  irrevocable  sentence,  and  that  an  Athenian 
judge  ordinarily  felt  well  inclined  toward  men  of  simple  piety, 
who  were  friendly  to  the  people.  From  this  he  obtained  excellent 
material  for  his  plea.  The  style,  though  somewhat  dry,  is  already 
Attic  in  precision  and  vigor.  Like  Gorgias,  the  author  distinguishes 
synonymes ;  like  all  the  sophists  and  like  Thucydides,  he  opposes 
appearance  to  reality,  and  probability  to  fact.  He  is  fond  of  taking 
adjectives  and  neuter  participles  substantively.  He  has  groups  of 
bold,  expressive  words.  His  style  has  the  antithetic  stiffness  found 
in  Gorgias,  though  there  is  more  seriousness  underneath.  If  the 
Tetralogies  were  not  the  work  of  Anti])linn,  it  is  difficult  to  say  to 
what  author  and  time  they  should  be  attributed. 

Of  his  real  pleas,  only  three  remain,  all  relating  to  murder  trials. 
They  show  the  art  of  the  Tetralofjies,  enriched  and  rendered  flexible 
by  contact  with  reality.  The  most  important  and  celebrated  is  that 
('>ii  till'  Murder  of  Ilerodes.  A  citizen  of  ^Nlitylene  travelled  with 
Herodes,  who  disappeared  at  ^Methymna.  The  ]\Iitylenean  is  ac- 
cused of  having  slain  his  travelling  companion,  and  defends  himself 
against  the  accusation.  In  the  exordium  he  represents  himself  as  a 
siini)le  man,  inexperienced  in  speech.  This,  unfortunately,  is  said 
in  rather  polished  language;  but  he  has  confidence  in  his  judges, 
and  invokes  the  sanctity  of  the  law.  In  narration,  the  story  is  short 
and  clear,  interrupted  by  testimony  and  deductions.     The  discussion 


Antiphon  289 

is  first  that  of  facts,  then  that  of  motives.  These  are  examined  for 
both  sides  from  the  point  of  view  of  probability,  following  the  rule 
of  the  Tetralogies  and  of  the  old  rhetoric.  The  discourse  closes  with 
the  development  of  three  general  ideas,  or  commonplaces  (tottoi), 
which  are  well  chosen:  first  the  possibility  of  judicial  errors;  then 
the  political  antecedents  of  the  accused's  father ;  and  finally  the 
visible  protection  of  the  gods,  who  have  not  ceased  to  testify  in  favor 
of  his  innocence.  The  peroration  is  a  resume  of  the  principal  argu- 
ments, with  a  passage  on  the  consequences  of  the  decision.  Anti- 
phon used  this  passage  again  in  the  exordium  of  another  oration. 
All  his  pleas  are  the  compositions  of  a  logographer  ;^  that  is  to  say, 
the  advocate,  according  to  Athenian  usage,  did  not  appear  before  the 
tribunal,  but  composed  for  his  client  a  discourse  which  the  latter 
recited  or  read  as  his  own  personal  work.  The  art  of  the  logog- 
rapher  is  not  exactly  that  of  a  modern  lawyer ;  it  demands  more 
simplicity,  and  a  peculiar  cleverness  in  lending  to  a  character  the 
language  of  his  condition.  "VVe  shall  consider  this  matter  again  in 
treating  of  Lysias,  who  excelled  in  such  vivid,  peculiar  composi- 
tions. In  Antiphon,  the  power  of  concealing  oneself  behind  a  client, 
and  giving  him  his  true  bearing,  had  not  reached  so  high  a  degree 
of  perfection.  The  orator  concealed  his  voice  in  vain;  it  was  really 
he  who  was  heard  speaking.  But  his  voice  was  pleasing  to  listen 
to,  for  it  discussed  forcibly  and  clearly. 

We  have  said  that  a  third  group  of  writings  bearing  his  name 
was  attributed  even  in  antiquity  to  another  man,  "Antiphon  the 
Sophist,"  supposed  to  be  a  contemporary.  Really  nothing  is  less 
well  attested.  The  most  important  of  the  writings  were  a  treatise, 
On  Truth  (ITepi  dXrjOeCas),  and  two  moral  discourses.  On  Concord  (IIcpl 
6;u,ovotas)  and  On  Politics  (IToAitikos).  The  fragments  we  have,  though 
short,  are  interesting.  Other  somewhat  longer  fragments  j)reserved 
by  Stobieus,  without  the  name  of  the  author,  apjiear  to  have  come 
from  tlie  Hepl  o/xovoias.  There  certainly  were  several  Antiphous  in 
the  fifth  century.  Which  is  the  author  of  these  fragments  ?  With- 
out entering  here  into  the  controversy,  we  may  say  that  the  resem- 
blance between  the  character  of  these  passages  and  that  of  the 
oratorical  works  is  great  enough  so  that  the  differences,  being  easily 
explained  by  differences  of  type,  do  not  absolutely  compel  us  to  deny 
the  authorship  of  the  orator.  They  are  not  unworthy  of  him.  If 
they  really  are  his,  it  is  interesting  to  note  that  this  firm,  lofty  spirit, 
so  much  admired  by  Thucydides,  gave  his  attention  also  to  the  prob- 
lems which  occupied  Gorgias  and  Protagoras. 

^  [There  are  two  classes  of  logographers  ;  cf.  chap.  IX,  7  of  this  work  with 
chap.  XX,  4.     Antiphon  belongs,  of  course,  to  the  latter.  — Tr.] 


290  Greek  Literature 

Cicero,  speaking  of  the  Greek  orators  of  this  period,  says  that 
they  had  "  grandeur  in  their  language,  much  thought,  terse  brevity, 
and  sometimes,  with  it  all,  a  slight  obscurity." '  The  criticism  well 
sums  up  the  impression  one  gets  of  the  oldest  of  the  Attic  orators 
who  wrote  his  works. 

8.  Socrates.  —  The  account  of  this  period  would  be  incomplete  if 
one  did  not  put  beside  the  sophists  the  figure  of  Socrates,  their  ad- 
versary, who  came  into  relation  with  them  at  so  many  points,  even 
by  his  opposition,  though  also  by  certain  resemblances.  Hisji^flu- 
ence  is  onel)f  the  most  far-reaching  in  history.  Not  only  Greece, 
but  mankind  as  a  whole,  has  felt  and  still  feels  it.  He  founded  a 
philosophic  religion.  The  Fathers  regarded  him  as  a  precursor  of 
Christianity.  J.  J.  Rousseau,  in  a  celebrated  passage,  compares  and 
opposes  him  to  Jesus.  Even  in  our  day,  his  name  and  thought  are 
constantly  met  in  the  meditations  of  thinkers.  He  l^t_no_}vritings ; 
but  through  his  disciples  he  is  the  source  of  an  immense  literature, 
all  of  which  bears  his  impress.  It  is,  then,  legitimate  and  necessary 
to  give  him  a  place  in  literary  history,  since  without  him  that  his- 
tory would  have  been  quite  different.  We  need  not,  however,  exam- 
ine minutely  his  doctrine,  but  simply  characterize  his  system  and 
his  influence.'' 

Socrates,  son  of.  the  sculptor  Sophroniscus  and  the  midwife 
Phaenarete,  was  born  at  Athens  in  470  or  4G9.  The  condition  of  his 
parents  was  modest,  yet  not  humble.  He  began,  like  his  father, 
by  being  a  sculptor  ;  and  even  won  some  reputation,  if  it  is  true 
that  a  group  of  draped  figures  which  Pausanias  saw  as  he  entered 
the  Acropolis  was  really  the  philosopher's  work.  While  busy  with 
sculpture,  he  heard  men  speak  of  the  researches  of  philosophy. 
Anaxagoras  and  Zeno  were  the  fashion  of  the  age ;  and  Protagoras, 
Gorgias,  and  Prodicus  were  beginning  to  attain  celebrity.  The 
youth  was  confronted  by  this  movement  of  thought,  and  devoted  him- 
self henceforth  entirely  to  philosophy.  Aside  from  his  philosophic 
mission,  the  external  circumstances  of  his  life  that  deserve  mention 
are  not  numerous.  As  a  hoplite,  he  fought  at  the  siege  of  Potidaea 
(432—429),  and  at  the  battle  of  Delium  (414).  His  bravery  and  forti- 
tude won  general  admiration.  At  Potidaea  he  saved  the  life  of 
the  wounded  Alcibiades.^       In  spite  of  his  wish  to  remain  out  of 

^  Cic,  Brutus,  7  :  "  Grandes  erant  verbis,  crebris  senteiitiis,  compressione 
reruin  broves  ct  ob  cam  ipsam  caiisam  inlerdum  subobscuri." 

-  Consult :  A.  Fouill^e,  Philosophir  <lr  Sorratfi,  I'aris,  1874  ;  Boutroux,  Sorrate 
fondateur  de  hi  science  mftrale  (Memoire  of  1885,  incorporated  by  the  author 
in  his  Etudes  d'histoire  de  la  philosophic,  Paris,  1897). 

^  Plato,  Symposium.  \).  219  E  et  scq.  A  later  tradition  represents  him  as 
rescuing  Xenophoii  at  Delium  ;  but  really  Xeiiophoji  cannot  have  been  present  at 
this  battle. 


Socrates  291 

political  life,  he  was  called  upon  to  preside,  in  406,  over  the  assembly 
which  tried  the  generals  of  Arginusse.  Popular  passions  demanded 
that  they  should  be  tried  in  a  body,  despite  the  law.  Socrates  would 
not  put  the  proposition  to  vote,  and  all  but  fell  a  victim  of  his  resist-, 
ance.^  Under  the  tyranny  of  the  Thirty,  when  summoned,  with 
three  other  persons,  to  proceed  in  an  illegal  arrest,  he  alone  dared  to 
refuse,  and  certainly  would  have  paid  for  his  courage  with  his  life, 
if  the  Thirty  had  not  been  almost  immediately  overthrown.  In  399, 
after  the  reestablishment  of  the  democracy,  Meletus,  Anytus,  and 
Lycon  accused  him  of  introducing  new  divinities  and  of  corrupting 
the  youth.  A  violent  religious  reaction  in  popular  opinion  was 
effected :  the  aristocrats,  the  philosophers,  and  the  enemies  of  reli- 
gion were  enveloped  in  the  same  hatred.  Already  associated  by 
comedy  with  the  representatives  of  scepticism  and  atheism,  he  fell 
a  victim  to  the  error  and  made  no  effort  to  dissipate  it.  Judging 
probably  that  he  could  not  continue  his  work  amid  a  hostile  environ- 
ment, and  thinking,  perhaps,  that  he  had  lived  long  enough,  he 
scorned  to  defend  himself  seriously.  He  was  condemned  to  death 
and  put  in  prison  to  await  the  return  of  the  sacred  trireme  which 
had  just  left  for  Delos.  He  might  have  escaped,  but  would  not  con- 
sent to  try.  At  the  end  of  thirty  days,  the  trireme  returned ;  the 
sacred  period,  during  which  no  execution  could  take  place,  was 
ended.  That  evening,  in  the  midst  of  his  disciples,  he  drank  the 
cup  of  hemlock  with  a  serenity  that  makes  his  very  death,  the 
final  act  of  his  mission,  the  most  persuasive  and  splendid  of  all. 
The  story  as  told  in  the  Phcedo  is  one  of  the  most  touching,  most 
simply  sublime,  pages  to  be  found  in  any  literature,^ 

Socrates  was  at  one  with  the  sophists  in  condemning  the  re- 
searches of  the  natural  philosophers.  He  considered  that  they 
were  attacking  problems  beyond  the  power  of  the  human  intellect  to 
solve ;  and  that  their  efforts,  even  if  they  could  be  successful, 
would  have  no  utility.  His  point  of  departure  in  philosophy  was, 
therefore,  exactly  the  same  as  that  of  Protagoras  and  Gorgias. 

But  the  common  ground  of  these  philosophers  here  comes  to 
an  end.  For  Protagoras  and  Gorgias,  sharing  his  opinions  thus  far, 
devote  themselves,   without  further  precaution,  to  the  search  for 


1  Xen.  Mem.  I,  1,  18,  and  elsewhere. 

2  Socrates  was  married.  His  wife,  Xanthippe,  became  in  antiquity  the  type 
of  the  hot-tempered  scold.  A  fine  passage  of  the  Mfmorahilia  (II,  2)  indicates 
that  Socrates  was  able  to  see,  beneath  the  superficial  ill  humor  of  his  wife,  the 
genuine  merit  which  counterbalanced  it.  His  eldest  son,  Lamprocles,  was  al- 
ready grown  at  the  time  of  the  trial  ;  and  there  were  two  brothers  much 
younger.  The  stories  according  to  which  Socrates  married  a  second  time  are 
without  foundation. 


{J   292  Greek  Literature 

the  useful,  and  think  they  have  gloriously  attained  it  by  the  for- 
mulation of  a  fallacious  rhetoric.  But  Socrates  has  quite  a  different 
opinion.  He  believes  that  one  cannot  actually  know  what  is  useful 
without  a  knowledge  of  real  things  ;  and  that,  to  arrive  at  such 
knowledge,  one  must  employ  a  sagacious  method,  of  which  the  soph- 
ists and  rhetors  have  not  the  slightest  suspicion.  The  first  thing 
necessary  for  philosophy  is  to  have  a  sure  method;  the  facts  of 
science  will  follow. 

Such  a  notion  of  the  necessity  of  method  is,  at  this  date,  as  new 
as  it  is  important.  There  is  no  science  without  method ;  but  the 
old  philosophers  ignored  the  fact.  The  method  of  Socrates  is  called 
dialectic.  It  is  the  art  of  employing  conversation,  or  rather  ques- 
tions and  answers,  in  the  analysis  of  ideas.  The  connected  discourse 
of  the  rhetoricians  admits  of  many  obscurities  and  confusions  that 
pass  unperceived  in  the  movement  of  the  language.  Dialectic  aims 
to  note  and  bring  these  to  light.  At  each  step  the  two  interlocutors 
make  sure  that  they  understand  each  other  exactly,  that  there  is 
nothing  equivoca,l  nor  contradictory  in  what  has  been  said,  and 
that  they  agi-ee  both  with  each  other  and  with  their  earlier  asser- 
tions. /Contradiction  is  a  sign  of  error} true  ideas  can  be  brought 
together  without  causing  it.  By  the  aid  of  dialectic,  Socrates  re- 
futes the  sophists ;  he  examines  their  assertions  and  analyzes  them, 
discloses  their  inner  contradictions,  and  irreparably  destroys  tlieir 
force.  The  auditors  and  even  the  interlocutor  assent.  But  dialec- 
tic is  not  limited  to  destroying  and  refuting;  it  must  rej)laee  the 
false  with  the  true  ideas,  and  substitute  science  for  error.  This  is 
:  accomplished  with  the  same  success.  Socrates  believes  that  truth^ 
is  at  the  basis  of  our  intelligence!  though  obscured  and  enveloped  / 
,in  veils  that  conceal  it.  It  is  necessary,  then,  to  manipulate  the 
mind  (maieutic)  and  bring  to  light  the  truth  it  conceals.  Dialectic 
examines  similars,  to  compare  them  with  each  other,  to  determine 
their  general  character,  and  to  define  and  classify  them.  By  induc- 
tion and  definition,  it  forms  science  proper. 

'•  The  science  of  Socrates  is  chiefly  that  of  morals ;  for  in  his  eyes 
this  is  the  most  interesting,  most  useful,  subject  possible.  Yet  he 
does  not  exclude  the  practical  arts.  He  chats  by  preference  with 
artisans,  artists,  and  soldiers  about  the  matters  of  their  professions. 
But  he  believes  that  in  all  domains  of  research  there  is  an  unknow- 
able part  which  the  human  intellect  cannot  attain.  The  gods  re- 
serve for  themselves  the  supreme  secrets,  communicating  them, 
when  they  choose,  to  their  friends.  Socrates  thus  received  the 
inspiration  of  the  divinity.  Men  often  speak  of  the  "  demon "  of 
S(x;rates ;   the  expression  is  an  unhappy  one.     Socrates   never  be- 


Socrates  293 

lieved  that  a  particular  entity  inspired  him,  but  that  the  divinity 
gave  him  knowledge  as  it  would  many  another. 

Among  the  moral  questions  he  examined,  one  of  the  most  im- 
portant is  that  of  the  nature  of  virtue,  and  of  the  relation  between 
the  good  and  the  useful.  He  showed  that  in  all  thinj^s  the  useful, 
the  good,  and  the  beautiful  are  inseparable.  In  the  moral  world, 
virtue  alone  is  truly  advantageous.  Hence  it  is  foolish  to  do  wrong. 
Virtue  is  the  result  of  intelligent  knowledge* 

Notwithstanding  his  aversion  to  questions  relating  to  the  nature 
of  the  universe,  he  is  obliged,  even  by  moral  considerations,  to  touch 
upon  the  relations  between  man  and  the  divinity,  and  consequently 
to  deal  with  metaphysics.  He  remains  faithful  here  to  his  general 
method.  He  considers  the  spectacle  of  the  universe  and,  comparing 
facts,  he  reaches  by  induction  the  idea  of  final  causes,  and  so  of  a 
Providence.  Dialectic  brought  him  to  a  sort  of  philosophic  religion. 
He  brought  with  him  the  spirit  of  veritable  piety.  He  speaks  at 
pleasure  of  the  gods  and  of  God.  He  sacrifices  to  the  divinities  of 
the  city  ;  but  in  his  thought,  all  the  divine  appellations  go  back  to 
one  miique  Intelligence,  a  really  living  Being,  active  and  paternal 
in  a  very  diiferent  sense  from  the  abstract  Being  of  the  Eleatics  or 
the  divine  Spirit  of  Anaxagoras.  And  as  for  the  lot  of  man  after 
death,  Socrates  probably  believed  in  a  future  life,  though  not  at- 
tempting to  use  dialectic  in  any  demonstration  of  its  existence. 

Keligion,  morals,  method,  so  closely  connected  together,  were 
not  for  Socrates  mere  objects  of  curious  speculation.  It  was  the 
great  affair  of  human  life  to  reach  the  truth  concerning  these  mat- 
ters. Hence  his  philosophy  and  his  work  had  a  novel  character. 
He  did  not  confine  his  teaching  to  a  limited  circle  of  initiated  dis- 
ciples, like  the  first  philosophers,  but  became  a  true  ajjostle.  He 
thinks  himself  sent  on  a  divine  mission.  He  feels  that  he  renders 
his  countrymen  a  service  in  pursuing  them  incessantly  with  urgent 
questions,  in  forcing  them  to  examine  themselves  and  not  to  slumber 
in  the  quietude  of  ready-made  opinions.  In  order  better  to  fulfil 
his  mission,  he  renounced  political  life.  For  his  mission  he  died, 
convinced  that  he  would  fail  in  his  essential  function  if  he  ceased 
to  pursue  error  relentlessly  and  i)repare  men's  minds  for  the  truth. 

His  influence  over  philosophy  can  scarcely  be  overestimated, 
since  all  philosophical  or  even  intellectual  religion  owes  to  him  its 
origin.  His  influence  in  literature,  too,  was  considerable.  Though 
he  wrote  nothing,  his  marvellous  conversation  could  not  fail  to  in- 
fluence the  imagination  of  writers.  Alcibiades  recounts,  in  Plato's 
Symposium.,  what  emotions  these  discourses  excited  in  the  minds  of 
those  who  heard  them.     They  could  never  be  forgotten.     Like  the 


294  Ghreek  Literature 

old  melodies  of  Olympus,  they  threw  men's  spirits  into  an  intoxica- 
tion. Yet  they  were  ordinarily  very  simple ;  this  man,  who  generally 
talked  about  fullers  and  shoemakers,  had  no  tendency  to  employ 
pompous  words.  Long  discourse  disgusted  him ;  he  lost  himself  in 
it,  he  said.  He  loved  an  easy,  natural  style,  and  had  no  fear  of  using 
a  trivial  word.  With  Gorgias  and  his  school,  Attic  prose  was  on 
the  point  of  losing  in  flexibility  and  naturalness  what  it  had  gained 
in  force  and  splendor:  Socrates  at  once  brought  it_^x;k  to  sim- 
plicity. But  the  simplicity  was  combined  with  two  excellent  quali- 
ties, poetic  feeling  and  irony.  His  poesy,  indeed,  was  not  quite 
like  that  Toiihdr  in  the  ^ymposhan  or  the  Timceus  of  Plato;  but  it 
came  from  a  very  lofty  moral  sentiment,  the  idea  of  divine  grandeur, 
the  mystery  of  that  unknown  region  which  surrounds  and  circum- 
scribes human  knowledge.  His  irony  had  the  grace  of  the  finest 
comedy :  it  made  fools  seem  more  ridiculous ;  and  the  moral  wretch- 
edness of  folly,  false  knowledge,  or  duped  honesty,  was  manifested 
to  all  by  the  smile  of  derision  on  his  lips.  If  one  adds  to  this  his 
habit  of  clearness  in  composition  and  precision  in  thought,  of 
which  his  dialectic  is  a  good  example,  and  also  the  vivid  image  of 
his  person  which  he  bequeathed  to  posterity,  one  will  understand 
how  it  is  that,  even  though  he  wrote  not  a  word,  he  merits  a  place  of 
honor  in  the  history  of  literature. 

With  Socrates  and  the  sophists,  we  have  the  beginning  of  the 
whole  literary  movement  of  the  fourth  century.  We  have  seen  the 
stream  at  its  source ;  we  can  now  follow  its  course  along  three  prin- 
cipal branches  —  history,  philosophy,  and  oratory. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

THUCYDIDES  AND   HIS  SUCCESSORS 

1.  Thucydides :  Life  and  Career,  2.  Science  in  Thucydides.  3.  Art  in  Thu- 
cydides.  4,  His  Imitators :  Xenophon ;  Philistus.  6.  Historians  of 
the  School  of  Isocrates :  Ephorus.  6.  Theopompus.  7.  The  Authors  of 
Atthids.     iEneas  the  Tactician. 

Of  all  the  forms  of  Attic  prose,  history  was  the  first  to  reach 
perfection.  lu  Thucydides  it  produced  immediately  a  masterpiece 
of  the  highest  order.  This  is  explained  in  part  by  the  fact  that 
Ionia  had  just  produced  Herodotus.  But  the  historical  type  deterio- 
rated, too,  at  once ;  none  of  the  successors  of  Thucydides  can  be  com- 
pared with  him.  Moreover,  for  the  most  part,  time  has  greatly 
diminished  their  fame;  so  that,  aside  from  Thucydides,  history 
offers  in  this  period  material  for  only  a  rapid  sketch. 

1.  Thucydides  :  Life  and  Career.  —  Thucydides,  son  of  Olorus,  was 
born  in  the  Attic  deme  of  Halimon  about  460.^  His  family  was  related 
to  that  of  Miltiades  and  Cimou.  Miltiades  had  married  the  daughter 
of  a  king  of  Thrace  named  Olorus.  It  is  evidently  for  this  reason 
that  the  father  of  Thucydides  bore  that  name,  and  that  Thucydides 
himself  possessed  in  Thrace,  at  Scapte  Hyle,  rich  gold  mines,  which 
gave  him,  according  to  his  own  account,  great  influence  in  that  coun- 
try. It  is  said  that,  while  young,  he  heard  Herodotus  read  at 
Athens  part  of  his  history ;  and  that,  because  he  wept  for  admira- 
tion, Herodotus  congratulated  his  father  on  having  a  son  so  fond  of 
learning.  The  anecdote  is  pleasant  rather  than  well  authenticated. 
A  better  tradition  makes  him  the  disciple  of  Antiphon;  it  is  ren- 

J  He  must  have  been  thirty  years  of  ape  at  the  beginning  of  the  Pelopon- 
nesian  War,  for  he  tells  us  that  he  foresaw  all  its  importance  ;  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  had  he  been  older,  he  probably  would  not  have  been  so  strongly  influenced 
by  sophistry.  In  Aulus  Gollius  (N'octcs  Atticce,  XV,  '-'3)  I'amphila  represents 
him  as  forty  in  481  ;  but  this  is  probably  a  mere  approximation. 

Hiiu.iocKAruY  :  Principal  editions  ;  Poppo,  revised  and  abridged  by  Stahl, 
Leipsic,  188;>  ;  Classen,  fretpiently  revised  and  corrected  ;  Stahl,  critical  edition, 
Leipsic,  187;3-1874;  Bohnu',  Leipsic,  2d  ed.,  18(54-1870;  Hude,  Leipsic,  1898, 
the  lirst  four  books  ;  A.  Croiset,  Paris,  188().  the  first  two  books  ;  Bekker, 
Oxford,  4  vols.,  1821;  Kriiger,  Berlin,  18(>() ;  Haas,  Paris,  1884,  with  Latin 
translation  and  scholia;  Thomas  Arnold,  London,  3  vols.,  1882,  with  English 
notes  and  maps. 

Phiglish  translation  by  B.  Jowett,  Oxford,  1881  ;  French  translations  by 
Betant  and  by  Zevort. 

Consult:  J.  Girard,  Jistiai  sitr  21mc)jdide,  Paris,  2d  ed.,  1884. 

295 


296  Greek  Literature 

dered  plausible  by  the  manner  in  which  he  mentions  Antiphou  in 
his  history.  Disciple  or  not,  he  certainly  felt  the  influence  of  Anti- 
phon,  and  also  that  of  contemporary  sophists.  Thucydides  is,  in  the 
highest  degree,  a  man  of  his  time,  a  representative  of  the  generation 
which  arrived  at  manhood  Avith  the  beginning  of  the  Peloponnesian 
"War.  He  Avas  chosen  strategus  in  424,  a  fact  which  seems  to  indi- 
cate that  he  had  already  won  distinction  in  several  campaigns. 
Nothing  is  known  of  his  political  life.  His  moderate  opinions  and 
penetrating  mind  lead  us  to  believe  that,  in  the  contests  of  the 
agora,  he  preferred,  so  far  as  it  was  possible,  the  part  of  spectator  to 
that  of  actor.  As  strategus  he  was  given  command  of  a  squadron 
that  was  to  guard  the  Thracian  coast  in  the  region  of  Amphipolis, 
while  that  city  was  occupied  by  his  colleague  Eucles.  A  bold  attack 
of  the  Spartan  Brasidas  in  midwinter  surprised  Eucles,  avIio  sent 
for  Thucydides.  But  it  was  too  late ;  the  city  fell  into  the  hands  of 
Brasidas  before  help  came.  Thucydides  was  accused  of  treason  and 
condemned.  He  was  exiled  for  twenty  years.  This  long  period 
was  occupied  by  the  preparation  of  his  history,  and  probably  by 
numerous  travels  for  information's  sake.  In  404,  after  the  capture 
of  Athens  by  Lysander,  the  exiled  Athenians  were  recalled.  It  is 
not  certain  that  Thucydides  was  included  in  the  general  measure, 
but  he  certainly  was  authorized  at  the  same  time  to  return.  He  lived 
for  some  years  afterward,  for  he  speaks  of  his  return  in  the  fifth 
book  of  his  history.  But  his  death  occurred  doubtless  before  395. 
According  to  a  tradition,  whose  details  vary,  he  died  a  violent  death 
while  on  a  visit  to  Scapte  Hyle. 

His  history  was  then  vinfinished.  He  tells  us  that  he  proposed 
to  give  an  account  of  the  twenty-seven  years  of  the  Peloponnesian 
"War  —  from  431  to  404;  but  his  account  ceases  with  411,  the 
twentieth  year.  The  history  of  the  twenty  years  is  divided  in  our 
manuscripts  into  eight  books,  but  the  division  was  not  made  by 
the  author.  Certain  modern  scholars  have  tried  to  show  that  the 
work  was  begun  at  the  beginning  of  the  war,  and  did  not  have,  in 
the  author's  mind,  the  unity  it  has  to-day.  This  is  possible;  yet 
the  important  thing  is  that  the  unity  exists,  and  was  clearly  intended 
by  Thucydides,  who  implies  it  in  several  passages. 

2.  Science  in  Thucydides.  —  What  gives  exceptional  value  to  the 
history  of  Thucydides  is  the  fact  that  he  is  deeply  imbued  with  a 
scientific  spirit,  always  rare,  and  at  that  time  wholly  new.  Such  a 
spirit  is  evident  in  the  general  habits  of  his  thought,  and  in  the  par- 
ticular application  he  makes  of  it  as  a  liistorian. 

First  of  all,  he  is  a  philosopher,  a  man  who  believes,  like  Anax- 
agoras  and  Hippocrates,  that  the  events  of  nature  are  brought  to  pass 


Thucydides  and  his  Successors  297 

in  accordance  with  regular  laws,  and  that  the  popular  religious  con- 
ceptions are  too  simple.  Certain  ancient  critics,  as  we  learn  from 
one  of  his  biographers,  even  accused  him  of  atheism.  He  is  no  more 
atheistic  than  Anaxagoras  or  Hippocrates,  who  recognize  a  Spirit 
governing  the  universe,  and  certain  divine  forces.  But  he  may  have 
seemed  so  in  the  eyes  of  his  contemporaries,  who  believed  in  jealous, 
capricious,  passionate  gods,  and  consulted  oracles  and  omens.  Be- 
yond doubt  Thucydides  has  no  faith  in  oracles.  He  expressly 
blames  Xicias  for  superstition.  He  leaves  no  place  in  his  history  for 
that  marvellous  element  of  which  Herodotus  was  so  fond.  If  he 
speaks  of  fortune  (Tvxv)f  nowhere  has  he  made  it  a  divinity.  It  sig- 
nifies for  him  only  the  unforeseen  and  unknowable.  In  politics,  as 
in  nature^  he  believes  in  intelligible  causes^  purely  humanTwErcTTneed 
to  be  discovered.  Some  of  them  lie  in  the  will  of  indivi?!tTrais-3nd  in 
part  elude  all  foresight;  yet  in  paftTrrrljTTor  each  Individual  has  a 
character  that,  on  the  whole,  remains  the  same  and  governs  his  acts. 
Thucydides  carefully  studied  the  psychology  of  individuals.  He 
devoted  himself  also  to  the  racial  character  of  ^peoples,  which  is  no 
less  precise,  and  more  far-reaching  in  the  scope  of  its  action.  He 
believed  that  Spartans  and  Athenians  obeyed  unconsciously  their 
hereditary  tendencies  and  rarely  offered  them  any  resistance.  Apart 
from  such  moral  causes,  he  finds  that  material  causes  determine 
events ;  for  example,  the  geogi-aphical  situation  of  a  country,  or  its 
military  or  financial  resources.  The  great  merit  of  a  statesman  is 
intelligence,  which  analyzes  all  these  causes,  measures  their  respec- 
tive potency,  and  enables  him  to  act  in  view  of  the  end  he  proposes 
to  attain.  On  the  other  hand,  morals  proper,  which  for  Herodotus 
were  the  supreme  law  of  history,  seem  to  him  to  have  little  place  in 
the  play  of  human  affairs,  at  least  in  so  far  as  the  immediate  conse- 
quences of  an  action  are  concerned.  He  often  speaks  in  noble  terms  of 
virtue,  and  describes  accurately  and  without  declamation  the  dangers 
which  the  moral  corruption  due  to  the  war  threatens  to  bring  upon 
Greece.'  P)Ut  he  does  not  believe  that  history  is  always  a  moral 
lesson.  He  thinks,  Avitli  his  age,  that  selfish  interests  are  what  gov- 
ern the  world,  and  that,  justly  or  unjustly,  its  i)eople  often  succeed 
in  defiance  of  morality.  In  his  aversion  to  all  that  might  seem  a 
concession  to  current  popular  morals,  he  goes  so  far  as  to  use  only 
the  language  of  selfish  interest,  even  where  this  is  at  one  with  good 
morals  and  could  be  aided  by  them. 

With  no  faith  in  the  marvellous,  he  is  no  less  averse  to  the  ex- 
traordinary.    He   aims  to  be  useful,  rather  thairto  astonish^    His 
tendency  is  a  positive,  i)ractical  one.     He  censures  the  logographers 
'  Tliucvdidcp.  III.  81 -H.I. 


298  Greek  Literature 

and  poets  for  wishing  to  embellish  reality.  As  an  Athenian  of 
sound  reason  and  stolid  sense,  he  prefers  nothing  above  truth.  He 
wishes  his  work  to  be  of  lasting  profit  (kt^/wi  cs  ad),  rather  than  a 
pompous  composition,  whose  success  is  momentary  only  (dywtcr/ia  e's 
TO  irapa-fiprjfjua)}  If  he  extols  at  first  the  grandeur  of  the  events  he  is 
about  to  recount,  this  is  partly  from  compliance  with  tradition,  but 
also  because  the  positive  lesson  to  be  gained  will  be  better  empha- 
sized. In  general  he  leaves  entirely  aside  laudatory  and  eulogistic 
language. 

He  is  well  informed,  moreover,  in  politics  and  war,  the  things  that 
form  the  material  of  history.  Having  had  part  in  both,  he  knows 
them  more  directly  than  through  books.  When  he  describes  a  cam- 
paign, one  sees  in  the  precision  of  the  narrative  a  man  of  the  profes- 
sion. If  he  pictures  a  great  political  discussion,  one  feels  that  he 
knows  the  actors,  their  ideas,  and  those  of  their  party^ 

He  is  remarkably  impartial.  Some  have,  at  times,  denied  this, 
because  of  two  or  three  severe  criticisms  directed  against  Cleon. 
But  one  needs  first  to  prove  that  Cleon  did  not  merit  them.  Such  a 
proof  is  much  more  difficult,  because  the  account  is  of  restrained 
severity.  In  fact,  to  read  twenty  pages  of  Thucydides  is  sufficient 
to  convince  one  tliat  the  only  passion  animating  him  is  that  for  truth. 
He  loves,  in  every  problem,  to  examine  scientifically  the  motives 
which  could  lead  men  to  prefer  one  or  the  other  course  of  action  ; 
this  is  his  delight,  the  demand  of  his  nature  —  as  that  of  others  is 
to  plead  a  cause.  Xever  does  success  dazzle  him  ;  never  is  a  reverse, 
in  his  eyes,  a  priori,  a  cause  for  censure.  The  men  and  peoi)les  he 
prefers  are  those  who  obey  reason,  but  he  does  not  aim  to  give  any 
one  either  praise  or  blame.  He  fears  being  duped  above  all,  tliough 
it  should  be  by  his  own  preferences.  His  constant  care  is  to  under- 
stand, even  more  than  to  judge;  and  if  he  judges,  he  puts  the  argu- 
ment for  both  sides  before  us.  The  character  of  individuals  and 
peoples  is  never  so  vividly  portrayed  by  him  as  when  he  brings  to 
light,  with  calm  equality,  their  merits  and  defects  before  giving  his 
final  judgment.  Though  an  aristocrat  by  birth,  he  admires  the 
Athenian  democracy,  notwithstanding  that  it  banished  him.  When 
he  sj^eaks  of  his  exile,  he  seems  to  be  s})eaking  of  the  exile  of  another. 
He  shows  respect  for  Nicias,  but  this  does  not  prevent  him  from  see- 
ing and  setting  forth  his  faults.     Such  is  liis  spirit  everywhere. 

All  these  are  the  qualities  of  a  superior  man,  who  could,  if  he 
chose,  be  sometliing  else  than  a  historian.  One  finds  his  manner  in 
other  things  characteristic  of  the  same  penetrating,  positive  reason 
with  which  he  essays  the  profession  of  his  choice. 

1  I,  22,  4. 


Thucydides  and  his  Successors  299 

For  example,  in  selecting  his  subject,  he  relates  the  military  and 
political  history  of  his  age,  and  speaks  of  the  remote  past  only  by 
accident.  In  fact,  present  reality  alone  is  really  instructive  and 
substantial  in  the  eyes  of  this  enemy  of  marvel,  this  politician,  this 
Athenian  of  positive  tendencies.  It  needs  to  be  studied  methodi- 
cally ;  and  the  study  of  it  is  the  task  to  which  he  devotes  himself. 

A  historian's  first  duty  is  to  scrutinize  all  the  documents  which 
he  consults.  Thucydides  understood  the  fact  perfectly  and  has  told 
us  of  the  difficulties  he  encountered.  In  the  study  of  ancient  events, 
distance,  the  mazes  of  memory,  the  liking  for  the  marvellous,  are 
perpetual  sources  of  error.  In  contemporary  events,  error  comes 
from  the  prejudice  of  witnesses,  contradictory  reports  of  selfish  mo- 
tives, and  even  the  difficulties  of  learning  facts  at  first  hand.  Most 
men,  says  he,  accept  without  scruple  the  first  account  that  comes, 
and  do  not  give  themselves  the  trouble  to  verify  it.^  He  proceeds 
very  differently.  In  ancient  events,  he  criticises  the  accounts  of  the 
poets  with  absolute  freedom.  His  criticism  of  Homer  in  the  begin- 
ning of  his  work  is  a  remarkable  essay,  and  that  in  a  form  of  study 
which  presents  peculiar  difficulties.  When  he  treats  contemporary 
events,  he  aims,  first  of  all,  to  witness  the  facts  himself.  If  this  is 
impossible,  he  devotes  himself  to  a  discussion  of  contradictory  state- 
ments; he  questions  both  parties.  As  a  historian,  he  is  neither 
Athenian  nor  Spartan.  He  is  and  means  to  be  only  a  historian.* 
Geography,  the  background,  as  it  were,  of  history,  seems  to  him 
highly  important.  He  gives  it  all  the  precision  that  a  keen  mind 
could  give  in  an  epoch  when  an  author  had  to  study  such  matters 
almost  wholly  by  himself,  without  the  aid  of  instruments  or  of  per- 
fectly exact  statements  of  others  to  guide  him.  He  is  equally  care- 
ful in  chronology.  He  blames  Hellanicus  for  neglecting  it,  and  is 
careful  about  it  even  to  scrupulousness.  To  avoid  the  errors  arising 
from  diversity  of  calendars  in  Greece,  he  adopts  a  system  founded 
upon  natural  phenomena.  He  proceeds  by  years  and  seasons,  at- 
tempting to  divide  the  seasons  into  shorter  periods,  according  to  the 
stage  in  the  growth  of  wheat,  for  example,  or  the  nature  of  the  work 
performed  in  the  fields.  The  system  evidently  lacks  the  precision 
whicli  we  attain  to-day,  but  it  was  then  a  marked  advance. 

Truth  once  discovered  needs  expression.  Here  again  the  choice 
of  methods  raises  delicate  problems.  There  is  always  an  element  of 
approximation  in  the  artistic  expression  of  reality  ;  it  must  distort 
the  account  as  little  as  possible.  In  default  of  literal  exactness,  its 
essence  must  be  portrayed  by  means  of  a  higher  truth.  From  the 
scientific  point  of  view,  only  one  thing  can  be  said  of  the  narratives 
1  I,  20.  2  I,  22,  2  ;  V,  2(5.  5. 


300  Gi'eek  Literature 

of  Thucydides,  namely,  that  they  reveal  their  conformity  with  facts 
by  their  very  clearness.  His  statements  do  not,  indeed,  seem  clear 
in  every  case ;  but  in  such  cases  the  facts  escape  us,  and  this  obscures 
the  connection  of  the  whole.  Thucydides  excelled  in  reconstructing 
the  necessary  logic  of  causes  and  effects.  It  has  been  said  that  few 
portions  of  the  history  of  the  world  are  better  understood  than  the 
Sicilian  expedition.  Side  by  side  with  narratives  proper,  he  often 
gives  pictures  of  entire  periods,  grouping  and  summarizing  with  a 
few  strokes  the  dominant  characteristics  of  a  situation,  a  period,  or  a 
class  of  men.  Here  synthesis  and  its  short  summaries  are  indis- 
pensable. Xo  one  else  has  rendered  it  more  vigorous  or  expressive. 
Even  in  his  extremest  brevity,  the  penetrating  light  of  intelligence, 
which  dissipates  the  darkness  and  opens  the  recesses,  gives  a  sensation 
of  living  reality  —  reality  comprehended  and  expressed  in  its  essence, 
its  soul,  if  one  may  say  so,  and  boldly  restored  to  its  true  basis. 
All  these  methods  are  still  employed  by  historical  science  so  fully 
that  they  cause  us  no  surprise. 

But  Thucydides  is  quite  unique  in  his  treatment  of  the  "  speeches." 
The  modern  historian  knows  the  importance  of  quoting  the  very 
words  spoken  by  historic  characters.  Out  of  respect,  if  he  cannot 
transcribe  them,  he  does  not  recast  them.  Thucydides  did  otherwise. 
Like  his  predecessors,  he  made  his  personages  speak  in  direct  dis- 
course, even  when  he  could  not  quote  their  words.  But  he  gave  not 
only  conversations  and  short  allocutions,  as  they  did,  but  great 
oratorical  discourses,  true  t-qfi-qyopiai,  like  those  pronounced  at  Athens 
in  the  assembly.  In  such  cases  he  did  not  limit  himself  to  literal 
reproductions.  Often,  it  is  true,  the  attempt  would  have  been  un- 
successful; but  even  when  he  has  at  hand  the  official  text  of  a  letter 
addressed  by  Nicias  to  the  people,  he  recasts  it  without  scruple,  to 
suit  himself.  In  other  cases,  it  is  evident  that  lie  aims  less  to  give 
a  minutely  exact  idea  of  the  progress  of  the  debates,  or  edit  a  report 
of  them,  than  to  show  their  spirit  and  general  intent.  He  simplifies 
and  concentrates.  He  sees  the  two  confiicting  theses,  and  presents 
them  to  the  reader  in  succession  in  two  model  discourses  opposed  to 
one  another,  like  two  adversaries  pleading  in  the  Tetralorjies  of 
Antiplion.  Two  or  three  times  he  even  presents  these  conflicts  of 
opinion  in  tlie  form  of  dramatic  dialogue.'  The  discourses  are 
ordinarily  put  into  the  mouth  of  the  statesman  who,  at  the  moment, 
best  personifies  the  ideas  of  his  party.  I-5ut  often  also,  in  default  of 
a  man  who  could  play  the  part  of  protagonist,  he  leaves  the  dis- 
course   anonymous.       He   sets    forth    clearly    what   his   method  is, 

^  II.  71-74  (between  Archidamos  and  tlie  PlaUeans)  ;  and  especially  V, 
85-111   (between  the  Athenian.s  and  the  Melians). 


Thucydides  and  his  Successors  301 

"  I  have  made  each  orator  say,  in  each  circumstance,  what  seemed  to 
me  most  appropriate  (ra  SeWra  /xoAio-ra),  keeping  as  close  as  possible 
to  the  spirit  that,  in  general,  inspired  his  discourses." '  To  dis- 
courses thus  conceived  he  gives  a  considerable  place  in  his  history. 
This  is  owing,  in  the  first  place,  to  the  great  importance  of  discourse 
in  the  political  life  of  the  time,  but  also  to  the  influence  of  rhetoric 
and  the  example  of  Antiphon.  We  hesitate  to-day  to  accept  such  a 
method  of  historical  exposition.  We  regard  a  statesman's  words  as 
worthy  of  the  same  respect  that  documents  command.  If  we  cannot 
reproduce  them  literally,  we  do  not  wish  distortion  of  form  to  make 
the  reader  suppose  that  our  exposition  has  more  of  truth  to  reality 
than  it  has.  The  scruple  is  due  to  the  progress  of  the  scientific 
spirit.  Thucydides  did  not  feel  the  scruple  because,  notwithstanding 
his  genius,  he  belonged  to  his  own  time.  Once  having  determined 
what  is  artificial  in  his  method,  we  must  confess  that,  even  from  the 
scientific  point  of  view,  he  turns  it  to  advantage  admirably.  Each 
of  his  discourses  is  a  mould  into  which  he  pours  all  the  philosophy 
of  a  situation,  all  the  thought  of  a  statesman  or  party.  All  his 
eloquence  is  full  of  thought.  We  can  understand  why  Demosthenes 
nourished  his  mind  upon  it.  Even  from  the  point  of  view  of  modern 
science,  all  its  elements  are  worth  preserving.  In  order  fully  to 
satisfy  our  taste  for  truth,  it  is  sufficient  to  take  away  the  marks  of 
quotation,  so  to  speak,  and  assign  to  their  proper  chapters,  under  the 
name  of  the  historian  himself,  these  profound  reflections  and  logical 
demonstrations. 

3.  Art  in  Thucydides.  —  This  great  scholar  is,  at  the  same  time, 
a  great  artist  and  profoundly  Attic.  He  is  such,  first,  in  his  inven- 
tion, which  is  very  different  from  that  of  Herodotus.  While  the 
latter,  with  his  innumerable  episodes  and  gentle  good  humor,  recalls 
the  old  epic,  the  former  is  brief  and  effective  like  tragedy  or  oratory. 
The  characteristic  is  noticeable  even  in  the  general  i)lan  of  his 
work.  What  he  wished  to  recount  is  the  political  and  military 
struggle  between  Athens  and  Sparta  —  nothing  more.  It  would  not 
have  been  difficult  for  him  to  attach  to  his  picture  of  the  Pelo})on- 
nesian  War  a  more  complete  one  of  contemporary  Greece.  Modern 
scholarship  would  have  been  infinitely  grateful  to  him  for  such  a 
picture.  He  understood  so  well  the  intellectual  greatness  of  his 
country,  as  he  has  shown  in  the  Funeral  Oration,  and  he  had  such  a 
profound  understanding  of  politics ;  what  a  pity  that  he  did  not  try 
to  give  us  an  accoimt  of  the  party  struggles  and  the  literary  life  of 
the  age  of  Pericles !  And  then,  what  a  rigorous  method  he  follows 
in  voluntarily  concentrating  all  his  attention  on  the  period  he  has 

1 1,  22,  1. 


302  Chreek  Literature 

selected !  What  floods  of  light  he  has  poured  upon  it !  What 
breadth  of  composition  characterizes  the  magnificent  introduction 
which  forms  the  first  book  of  our  manuscripts !  Aside  from  eight 
or  ten  passages,  generally  very  short,  which  a  modern  writer  would 
have  relegated  to  notes  or  appendices,  he  goes  straight  to  his  goal 
with  unswerving  rectitude,  without  distraction  or  weariness.  The 
same  high  degree  of  merit  is  found  in  each  passage  considered  by 
itself,  be  it  narrative,  description,  or  oratory.  The  story  of  the 
Sicilian  expedition,  which  occupies  two  books,  is  composed  like  a 
well-organized  drama  :  first,  the  history  of  the  early  successes  of 
the  Athenians ;  then,  when  they  seem  about  to  triumph,  the  arrival 
of  Gylippus  ;  and  from  that  moment,  faint  successes,  reverses,  dis- 
asters, and  the  eventual  catastrophe.  All  this  seizes  the  reader's 
imagination  with  irresistible  force.  The  story  of  the  siege  of 
Platsea  is  no  less  touching.  With  these  longer  narratives  are 
given  a  multitude  of  short  ones  —  land  and  sea  battles,  sieges,  sur- 
prises, civil  strifes  —  which  present  the  same  good  qualities.  There 
are,  however,  in  the  history,  some  portions  that  seem  dry,  some 
narratives  that  his  unyielding  chronology  led  him  to  break  in  pieces. 
This  excessive  scruple  for  chronology,  this  dryness  in  the  enumera- 
tion of  the  monotonous  and  unimportant  incidents  of  war,  is  due 
really  to  a  meritorious  striving  for  scrupulous  exactness.  The 
resulting  stiffness  is  the  relic  of  archaism  in  his  otherwise  vigorous 
art.  Of  the  contrary,  in  his  rhumh  of  situations  —  the  general 
pictures  of  which  we  have  already  spoken — the  writer's  power  of 
invention  achieves  the  happiest  results.  It  is  eloquent  history 
in  the  truest  sense  of  the  term  —  eloquent  not  by  a  vain  display  of 
artificial  rhetoric,  but  by  concentration  of  thought  upon  one  subject 
that  is  never  lost  from  view.  The  eloquence  had  its  proper  i)lace 
in  his  harangues.  It  is  perhaps  the  part  of  his  work,  according  to 
Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus,  in  which  the  force  of  his  genius  is 
most  manifest.  The  discourses  are  ordinarily  constructed  on  a 
clear  and  simple  plan  :  a  few  lines  of  exordium,  a  discussion,  me- 
tliodically  divided  and  well  carried  on,  a  short  peroration,  deducing 
from  the  discussion  a  conclusion  that  is  logical  and  correct.  There 
is  not  tlie  luxuriance  of  divisions  and  subdivisions  in  which  the 
tf^achers  of  rhetoric  were  then  beginning  to  indulge.  But  if  the 
fundamental  quality  of  oratorical  composition  is  in  the  firm  connec- 
tion and  rigorous  concatenation  of  the  parts,  then  the  discourses  of 
Thucydides  are  admirably  composed.  For  the  rostrum  they  would 
be  too  condensed,  too  heavily  loaded  with  thought.  Each  one  is  an 
inexhaustible  mine  of  political  observations  and  profound  reflections. 
l'>efore  auditors,  more  air  and  space  would  be  necessary.     But  they 


Thucydides  and. his  Successors  303 

were  addressed  to  readers ;  it  is  written,  not  spoken,  oratory.  Con- 
sidered from  this,  the  true  point  of  view,  they  escape  the  censure 
orators  might  be  tempted  to  give  them.  Montesquieu  need  not  have 
the  fulness  of  Bossuet. 

The  style  of  Thucydides  owes  much  to  Gorgias,  Prodicus,  and 
Antiphon ;  but  what  the  historian  borrows  from  his  masters  is,  so 
to  speak,  the  grammar  of  the  style.  What  he  adds  from  his  own 
resources  is  the  genius  which  enlarges  the  traditional  moulds  and 
makes  them  brilliant.  More  than  his  masters,  he  renews  the  lan- 
guage for  the  expression  of  new  ideas.  He  manages  it  with  remark- 
able power.  He  unites  profundity  with  precision,  and  abundance 
of  ideas  with  a  concentration  so  strong  that  it  becomes  at  times 
obscure.  Subtle,  scholarly,  painstaking  precision,  mingled  with 
grandeur,  brilliance,  terse  brevity,  and  quick  movements  of  a 
thought  that  struggles  against  the  insufficiencies  of  the  language  — 
all  this  produces  a  style  in  which  effort  is  still  manifest,  which  is 
not  the  final  product  of  Atticism,  but  in  which  its  essential  qualities 
are  seen  displayed  with  incomparable  vigor.  His  vocabulary,  like 
that  of  Gorgias,  admits  sometimes,  though  more  sparingly,  anti- 
quated or  poetic  words  to  lend  greater  nobility  to  the  language ;  but 
what  chiefly  characterizes  it  is  a  multitude  of  new  words  or  words 
renewed  by  an  unusual  use,  employed  to  give  the  thought  more  pre- 
cision or  more  relief.  His  boldness  in  this  respect  is  surprising. 
Not  only  are  neuter  adjectives  used  substantively,  but  they  are 
themselves  construed  with  other  adjectives  that  qualify  or  limit 
them.  Participles  are  similarly  treated.  Verbal  substantives  de- 
noting the  actor  (termination  -tt^s)  or  the  action  (termination  -0-6?) 
abound  in  place  of  the  corresponding  verbs,  which  are  more  common 
in  the  spoken  language.  Substantives  are  grammatically  construed 
—  with  unusual  boldness  —  as  at  once  both  verbs  and  substantives, 
sometimes  preserving  their  verbal  nature  in  that  they  govern  com- 
plements and  object  clauses.  The  author  is  fond  of  verbs  composed 
with  the  help  of  prepositions  for  expressing  subtle  relations.  He 
opposes  and  distingui.shes  synonymes  after  the  manner  of  Prodicus. 
As  in  all  the  dignified  prose  of  the  time,  the  diction  is  essentially 
antithetic.  As  the  word  "  antithesis  "  finally  took  on  a  very  narrow 
rhetorical  usage,  we  may  define  ourselves  by  saying  that  the  ideas 
constantly  tend  to  stand  opposed  in  pairs  (amKct/xcVj;  Xc'^i?).  Now 
it  is  the  play  of  /xeV  and  8i  which  shows  the  relation,  now  that  of  re 
and  Kttt;  or  it  is  the  affirmative  statement  succeeding  the  negative 
(ovK  .  .  .  oAXd).  Very  often  appearance  is  opposed  to  reality  (Xdyw 
fiev  .  .  .  ipyw  Sc).  To  emphasize  his  oppositions  he  does  not  dis- 
dain the  use  of  parallelisms  and  assonances :  but  while  the  so])hists 


304  Greek  Literature 

made  these  simply  manipulations  of  words,  Thucydides  put  into 
them  a  wealth  of  ideas.  Like  Gorgias  again,  and  like  Antiphon, 
Thucydides,  with  his  rather  stiff  precision,  rarely  uses  the  figures 
of  invention  that  abound  in  Demosthenes.  The  only  ones  he  em- 
ploys frequently  are  the  interrogations,  the  simplest  and  most  dia- 
lectic of  all.  Ordinarily,  even  passion  is  concealed  beneath  a 
designedly  cold  form.  Like  the  ancient  Attic  orators,  he  preserves 
on  the  rostrum  a  serious  mien,  with  his  hands  concealed  by  his 
mantle.  These  antithetic  phrases  are  laboriously  opposed  to  each 
other,  and  do  not  flow  along  easily.  He  aims  much  less  at  elegant 
clearness  than  at  force  and  emphasis.  His  syntax  is  very  free ;  his 
words  are  arranged,  not  in  the  simplest,  clearest  order,  but  to  suit 
the  flights  of  a  strong,  ready  imagination,  like  that  of  a  poet.  The 
symmetry  of  phrases  is  brusquely  interrupted  to  secure  greater  effect. 
He  multiplies  ellipses,  and  suppresses  words  that  are  useful  only 
for  ease  of  discourse,  yet  retard  the  movement.  He  unites  strangely 
differing  constructions  which  another  writer  would  distinguish  with 
care.  Sometimes  he  has  very  long  sentences,  and  it  requires  an 
effort  to  combine  all  the  secondary  ideas  around  the  principal  one. 
He  has  not  yet  the  skill  necessary  to  handle  a  period  in  the  strict 
sense  of  the  word,  where  every  element  of  the  thought  arranges 
itself  in  proper  order.  The  long  sentences  are  often  ungraramatical 
and  confused,  yet  full  of  spirit  and  powerful.  In  reading  them,  one 
is  tempted  to  think  of  Saint-Simon,  who  puts  together,  with  as 
rough  a  hand,  ungrammatical,  jarring  sentences.  The  difference  is 
that  the  Frenchman  has  more  fire,  enthusiasm,  spleen.  The  passion 
of  Thucydides  (there  always  is  a  sort  of  i)assion  in  spontaneous,  dis- 
connected writing)  is  chiefly  intellectual ;  he  is  pure  spirit  contend- 
ing against  a  pure  idea.  When  one  speaks  of  his  style,  it  is  usual 
to  distinguish  that  of  the  speeches  from  that  of  the  narratives.  The 
latter  are  clearer ;  the  former,  because  of  their  fulness  of  thought 
and  vivacity  of  imagination,  are  more  terse  and  obscure.  Tlie  dis- 
courses are  the  marrow  of  his  work  ;  if  lie  had  written  only  narra- 
tives, we  should  not  see  so  well,  owing  to  the  affinities  of  all  sorts 
by  whicli  he  is  connected  with  his  time,  tlie  striking  originality  of 
his  genius  —  abrupt  and  subtle,  summary  and  complicated,  strong 
and  delicate. 

His  work  is  one  of  the  most  finished  examples  of  history  —  a  work 
of  both  science  and  art  in  every  sense  of  tlie  word.  Its  perfection 
both  provoked  and  defied  imitation.  It  may  be  said  that  his  loftiest 
fjualities,  the  scientific  spirit  and  the  impartiality,  did  not  excite 
emulation  so  much  as  did  his  art  —  at  least  in  its  superficial,  tangible 
elements.     S(jon,    however,    under    the   influence   of   an    advancing 


Thucydides  and  his  Successors  305 

rhetoric,  a  different  ideal  was  to  be  substituted  for  that  of  the  great 
historian.     This  we  shall  study  when  we  reach  the  fourth  century. 

4.  Imitators  of  Thucydides :  Xenophon ;  Philistus.  —  Among  the 
foremost  imitators  of  Thucydides  must  be  put  Xenophon.  Accord- 
ing to  certain  traditions,  he  published  the  earlier  historian's  work, 
which  was  left  incomplete.  At  any  rate,  he  continued  it  in  his  own 
Ilellenica.  But  the  historian  in  Xenophon  cannot  be  considered  apart 
ffomthe  philosopher  and  moralist.  Hence  we  shall  return  to  the 
Hellenica  in  the  next  chapter.  Suffice  it  to  say  here  that  his  example 
showed  how  far  most  of  the  genius  of  Thucydides  was  inimitable, 
even  for  the  most  sympathetic  talent. 

Philistus,  born  at  Syracuse  in  the  beginning  of  the  Peloponnesian 
War,  a  courtier  of  Dionysius  the  Elder,  but  exiled  by  him  in  385, 
withdrew  to  Magna  Grsecia  to  compose  there  his  historical  works. ^ 
Recalled  in  3G8  by  Dionysius  the  Younger,  he  opposed  the  influences 
of  Dio  and  Plato  over  that  prince.  When  Dio  renounced  his  alle- 
giance, Philistus,  then  general  of  Dionysius,  was  taken  prisoner  in 
battle  and  put  to  death.  He  had  written  various  works,  forming  a 
complete  history  of  Sicily  down  to  Dionysius  the  Younger.  It  was 
a  long  composition,  but  we  have  only  some  insignificant  fragments. 
Ancient  critics  say  that  he  meant  to  imitate  Thucydides.  Like  him, 
he  devoted  himself  scrupulously  to  his  subject,  allowing  himself  no 
digressions.  Like  him,  too,  he  wrote  in  a  terse,  brief  style,  aiming 
rather  at  emphasis  than  grace.  The  imitation,  unfortunately,  ex- 
tended neither  to  the  scientific  spirit  nor  the  impartiality  of  his 
model.  He  seems  to  have  had  a  fondness  for  legends.  He  was 
partial,  even  falsely  so,  to  the  tyrants,  and  pursued  their  adversaries 
with  his  attacks.  Eeally  he  was  a  historian  of  the  second  rank. 
The  Alexandrians  excluded  him  froiu  their  canon. 

5.  Historians  of  the  School  of  Isocrates  :  Ephorus.  —  After  the  imi- 
tators of  Thucydides  come  the  disciples  of  Isocrates.  The  orator's 
abundant,  flowery,  harmonious  eloquence  so  enchanted  Greece  tliat 
his  influence  was  universal.  In  history  it  held  sovereign  sway,  and 
though  a  historian's  style  might  thereby  gain  a  pleasing  elegance, 
tlie  seriousness  of  the  thought  diminished.  Ephorus  and  Theopom- 
pus,  both  disciples  of  Isocrates,  inaugurated  the  new  fash  ion. - 

Ephorus,  born  at  Cyme  in  ^Eolis  in  the  first  half  of  the  fcnirth 
century,  came  to  Athens  and  received  there  the  instruction  of  the 
author  of  the  Panegi/ricus.  He  tried  at  first,  it  is  said,  to  practise 
oratory,  but  with  only  meagre  success.     Isocrates  then  induced  him 

1  Fragments  in  Miiller,  Fragmentn  Hiatnricorum  (ira'rurum.  I. 
-  [Fra^nnents  of   Ephorus  in  Miiller,  Fra(j>n.  Hist.  (rnec.  I,  2:>4-237  ;  IV, 
041-042.    Fragments  of  Theopompus  in  ibid.  I,  278-.">;]-j  ;  anel  IV.  04;;-G4o.  —  Tr.] 

X 


30G  Greek  Literature 

to  become  a  historian,  and  to  turn  by  preference  to  the  history  of 
remoter  times  as  being  more  suited  to  the  peaceful,  quiet  character 
of  his  genius.  According  to  Suidas,  what  Isocrates  said  was  that 
Ephorus  needed  the  spur  and  Theopompus  the  rein.  He  reserved 
for  Theopompus  the  history  of  more  recent  times,  which  was  filled 
with  strife  and  passion,  and  so  better  suited  to  the  temperament  of 
an  orator.  Ephorus,  in  fact,  wrote  a  great  history  of  the  ancient 
world  from  the  return  of  the  Heraclidie  to  the  capture  of  Corinth 
by  Philip  in  340.  It  was  a  vast  composition,  divided  by  the  author 
into  thirty  books,  each  of  which  had  a  preface  preceding  it.  Not 
only  Greece,  but  all  parts  of  the  ancient  world  in  relation  with 
Greece,  such  as  Persia  and  Carthage,  were  embraced  in  his  work. 
Polybius  expressly  commended  the  design  governing  the  composition 
of  this  universal  history.  The  work,  though  constantly  used  by 
his  successors,  has  been  lost.  Yet  we  can  still  discern  some  of  its 
interesting  features. 

He  had  the  insight  to  see  that,  in  the  study  of  very  ancient 
matters,  one  must  guard  against  too  detailed  an  account.  Precision 
in  that  case  betokens  late  invention.^  He  had  a  feeling  that  criti- 
cism was  necessary ;  but  he  seems,  in  practice,  to  have  sought  to 
correct  the  old  legends  by  explanations  due  to  a  very  superficial 
rationalism.  A  better  feature,  no  doubt,  in  the  parts  of  his  work 
where  lie  treated  remote  epochs  and  distant  lands,  is  the  laborious 
application  which  enabled  him  to  accumulate  so  much  material.  Its 
value,  however,  is  not  uniform  throughout.  In  the  latter  part  of  his 
history  he  likewise  evinced  diligent  research  and  extensive  infor- 
mation. He  had  recourse  at  times  to  authentic  documents.  Yet, 
when  one  sees  in  Diodorus  to  what  puerile  motives  he  attributed  the 
part  of  Pericles  in  bringing  on  the  Peloponnesiau  War,  one  doubts 
whether  the  learned  compiler  comprehended  politics.  Polybius 
reproaches  him  also  with  having  shown  great  ignorance  of  military 
details  and  with  having  described  battles  tliat  would  be  wholly 
incomprehensible  to  a  professional  soldier.-  On  the  other  hand,  he 
swelled  the  number  of  combatants  and  slain,  and  put  florid  dis- 
courses into  the  mouths  of  his  characters.  Dionysius  of  Halicar- 
nassus  and  Cicero  vaunt  the  suavity  of  his  discourse.  The  elegant 
clearness  of  his  composition  was  praised  also;  general  reflections 
and  episodic  dissertations  were  wrought  into  the  narrative  without 
breaking  it ;  these  dissertations  were  highly  appreciated  by  Polybius.'' 
On  the  whole,  Ephorus  was  a  good  pupil  of  Isocrates  and  a  diligent 
compiler;  but  this  is  not  sufficient  for  a  historian  of  the  first  rank. 
6.  Theopompus.  —  Porn  at  Chios,  in  380,  Theopompus  belonged 
1  Fr.  I,  Muller.  2  Polyb.  XII,  25  F.  3  md,  XII,  28. 


Thucydides  and  his  Successors  307 

to  a  rich,  aristocratic  family.  His  youth  was  passed  in  exile,  a 
democratic  revolution  having  banished  his  family  from  Chios.  In 
360  he  was  the  pupil  of  Isocrates  at  Athens  at  the  same  time  as 
Ephorus.  We  have  already  noted  what  opinion  the  master  held 
concerning  the  two  disciples.  As  an  orator,  Theopompus  had  great 
success  with  his  epidictic  speeches.  His  Eulogy  of  Mausolus  was 
celebrated.  In  one  of  his  prefaces,  with  a  vanity  quite  in  keeping 
with  Isocrates,  he  said  that  there  was  not  a  celebrated  place  in  Greece 
where  he  had  not  won  the  favor  of  the  people.'  His  travels  and 
reputation  won  him  the  acquaintance  of  all  the  statesmen  of  his 
time.  The  friendship  of  Alexander  enabled  him  to  return  to  Chios ; 
but  after  the  king  of  Macedon's  death,  he  was  exiled  anew,  and 
recommenced  his  wandering  life.  It  is  not  known  where  and  when 
he  died.  He  left  numerous  speeches  and  various  historical  works,  of 
which  by  far  the  most  important  was  the  History  of  Philip  (^iXltt- 
TTiKo),  in  fifty-eight  books.  It  recounted  the  history  of  Greece  from 
362,  when  the  Ilellenica  of  Xeuophon  ceased,  until  the  death  of 
Philip  in  336.  Some  fragments  still  preserved  are  of  considerable 
interest. 

The  title  of  the  work  is  in  itself  a  happy  invention :  History  of 
Philip.  This  signifies  at  once  that  Philip  had  become  the  centre 
of  the  Greek  world,  and  that  all  the  cities,  including  Athens,  were 
dependent  on  him.  It  is  a  profound  view,  though  coming  from 
no  desire  to  flatter  Philip;  for  no  one  had  spoken  more  ill  of 
him  than  Theopompus.  About  the  central  figure  of  Philip  was 
developed  the  whole  life  of  Greece  during  the  twenty  years  preced- 
ing the  hegemony  of  Macedon.  By  Theopompus,  as  by  Ei)horus, 
the  principal  subject  was  often  put  aside  for  a  time,  yet  without 
breaking  the  thread.  Upon  this  great,  pliant  frame,  the  former 
wrought  the  history  of  the  particular  cities,  together  with  geo- 
graphical descriptions,  accounts  of  manners,  anecdotes  about  cele- 
brated men,  and  even  fables  and  local  legends.  One  book  of  his 
history  was  especially  devoted  to  the  demagogues  of  Athens,  whose 
private  and  public  life  he  studied.  The  luxury,  debauchery,  and 
fantastic  folly  of  foreign  kings  and  Greek  tyrants  —  Cotys,  Strato 
of  Sidon,  Dionysius  of  Syracuse,  or  Philip  of  Macedon  —  had  found 
in  him  an  attentive  and  severe  painter.  Never  had  observation  of 
individual  character  occupied  so  much  place  in  a  historical  work. 

The  extent  of  his  researches  and  information,  as  in  the  case  of 
Ejjhorus,  must  have  been  very  great.  Polybius  recognizes  in  him  a 
comprehension  of  politics,  if  not  of  war,  better  than  that  of  Eph- 
orus.    What  the  ancients  most  disliked  in  him  was  his  fondness 

1  Fr.  20,  Muller. 


308  Greek  Literature 

of  speaking  ill  of  every  one :  maledicentissimus  sciiptor,  says  Cor- 
nelius Nepos,  who  expresses  only  the  general  opinion.  It  is  certain 
that  a  writer  endowed  with  a  talent  for  invective,  and  given  an 
education  more  oratorical  than  scientific,  was  likely  to  see  too  often 
only  the  bad  side,  and  to  censure  for  the  mere  love  of  doing  so.  But 
perhaps  it  would  not  be  right  to  accept  this  judgment  without  re- 
serve. Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus  observes  that,  even  if  he  Avas  one 
of  the  most  censorious  historians,  it  was  partly  because  he  was  one  of 
the  most  clear-sighted.  He  was  a  psychologist ;  he  loved  to  search 
out  the  hidden  motives  of  an  action.  He  studied  the  private  life  of 
statesmen,  looked  into  the  recesses  of  their  souls.  He  was  in  many 
ways  a  predecessor  of  Tacitus.  In  history,  psychologists  are  rarely 
optimistic.  It  may  be  admitted  that  at  times  he  was  rather  excessive 
in  adverse  criticism,  and  that  the  pleasure  of  thundering  against 
vice  led  him  to  multiply  to  excess  those  moral  pictures  in  which  his 
immense  love  of  display  found  scope  to  express  itself. 

As  a  writer,  he  had  the  merits  of  the  school  of  Isocrates  —  ele- 
gance, harmony,  and  clearness  of  composition ;  and  also  its  defects  — 
unreasonable,  immoderate  love  of  finely  formed  sentences,  and  rather 
ridiculous  sophistic  infatuation.  He  added  the  personal  merit  of 
passion  and  vehemence,  in  which,  according  to  Dionysius,  he  some- 
times approached  Demosthenes.  Some  fairly  long  fragments  on 
Philip's  court  give  us  an  idea  of  his  vehemence.  Though  brilliant, 
it  has  a  spiteful  pungency  apparently  more  in  place  in  a  polemic 
than  in  history.  Another  fragment,  describing  the  pomp  of  the 
expedition  of  a  Persian  king  (Artaxerxes  Ochus  ?)  in  Egypt,  is  of 
really  picturesque  magnificence.  We  are  tempted,  however,  to  cen- 
sure its  oratorical  turn  and  the  formality  of  its  periods.  All  the  pupils 
of  Isocrates  were  decidedly  too  eloquent.  How  much  superior  is 
the  peculiar  artlessness  of  Herodotus,  the  serious  gravity  of  Thucyd- 
ides,  to  all  these  harmonious,  grandiloquent  sentences.  Despite  their 
learning  and  talent,  Ephorus  and  Theopompus  journeyed  along  the 
wrong  route.  The  tyranny  of  rhetoric  had  begun.  History,  though  it 
had  scarcely  attained  to  its  ripest  powers,  was  falling  into  decadence. 

7.  The  Authors  of  Atthids.  ^Sineas  the  Tactician.  — We  have  almost 
finished  now  the  picture  of  the  development  of  history  in  the  fourth 
century.  A  word  must  be  spoken  yet,  however,  about  those  belated 
successors  of  the  logographers,  who  composed,  in  the  first  half  of 
the  century,  under  the  name  of  Attliids,  some  chronicles  of  Athens, 
analogous,  prol)ably,  to  those  of  Hellanicus.  For  Clitodemus  and 
Phanodemus,  authors  of  Atthids,  are  intermediate  between  the  old 
logographers  and  the  scholars  who,  in  the  third  century,  adopted  the 
form  of  composition  again,  and  gave  it  a  new  life. 


Thucydides  and  his  Successors  309 

Besides  historians  proper,  let  us  mention  also  a  military  tacti- 
cian, who  borrowed  from  the  historians  the  materials  for  his  work. 
Under  the  name  of  iEneas,  perhaps  the  iEneas  of  Stymphalos  men- 
tioned in  the  Hellenica,  we  possess  a  treatise  on  the  defence  of  strong- 
holds, extracted  from  a  longer  work  on  strategy  composed  about  the 
middle  of  the  fourth  century.  The  little  work  is  filled  with  personal 
anecdotes,  and  examples  selected  from  Thucydides  and  Xenophon. 
It  is  interesting  even  for  the  untechnical.  As  it  is  written  in  the 
Attic  dialect,  although  its  author  was  probably  an  Arcadian,  it  is 
very  naturally  connected  with  the  historical  works  treated  in  this 
chapter.^ 

1  [Text  of  ^neas  by  Hercher,  Berlin,  1870  ;  and  by  A.  Hug,  Leipsic,  1874.  — Tr.] 


CHAPTER  XIX 

ATTIC   PHILOSOPHY 

1.  The  Disciples  of  Socrates.  2.  Xenophon  :  his  Life  and  Works ;  General 
Character  of  his  Genius.  3.  His  Socratic  Writings.  4.  His  Political  and 
Military  Writings.  5.  His  Historical  Writings.  6.  Conclusion,  The 
Cyropoedia.  7.  Plato  :  his  Life  and  Career.  8.  Platonic  Doctrine.  9.  The 
Art  of  Dialogue  in  Plato.  10.  His  Personages  and  Characters.  11.  His 
Style.  12.  The  Invention  of  the  Dialogues.  13.  Plato's  Atticism.  14.  The 
Academy  after  Plato.  15.  Aristotle :  his  Life ;  Immensity  of  his  Work. 
16.  Principles  of  his  Philosophy.  17.  General  View  of  his  Works.  Sum- 
mary Classification.  18.  Some  Theories  of  Aristotle.  19.  Aristotle  as  a 
Writer.     Conclusion.     20.  The  Lyceum  after  Aristotle  :  Theophrastus. 

1.  The  Disciples  of  Socrates.  —  Apart  from  chance  interlocutors 
with  whom  Socrates  entered  into  discussion,  he  united  around  him- 
self a  group  of  faithful  companions,  mostly  young  men,  who  loved 
his  conversation  and  tried  to  become  imbued  with  his  ideas.  These  may 
not  have  been  "  disciples  "  {^OrjTai)  in  the  proper  sense  of  the  word, 
or  at  least  Socrates  did  not  wish  them  to  be  so  considered ;  for  he 
said  that,  knowing  nothing  himself,  he  could  teach  them  nothing  ex- 
cept his  ignorance.  They  were  friends  on  familiar  terms  with  him, 
in  common  with  whom  he  sought  for  truth  (pi  eralpoi,  ol  o-vvoVtcs,  oi 
ofxiK-qral).  Among  these  companions  whom  we,  nevertheless,  shall 
call  disciples,  some  loved  chiefly  his  personality,  others  his  dialectic 
method,  others  his  moral  instruction.  Several  of  them  founded 
schools.  Others  were  merely  writers  who  had  come  under  his  per- 
sonal influence.  Some  few,  like  Crito  or  Chseredemus,  were  content 
to  live  in  his  company.  These  wrote  nothing,  and  cannot  be  treated 
in  the  history  of  literature. 

Plato  is  the  most  illustrious  of  those  who  founded  schools.  But 
still  others  had  an  important  place  in  the  history  of  Greek  philoso- 
phy, such  as  Phiedo,  founder  of  the  school  of  Elis  or  Eretria;  Eu- 
clid, founder  of  the  school  of  Megara;  Antisthenes,  the  chief  of  the 
Cynics ;  and  Aristippus,  who  founded  the  Cyrenaic  school.  To 
Pha-do  and  Euclid  are  attributed  some  dialogues,  yet  not  many.  We 
have  almost  nothing  of  them,  and  their  authenticity  may  be  ques- 
tioned. Antisthenes  was  a  fertile  and  remarkable  writer.  He  wTote 
some  commentaries  on  Homer,  now  lost ;  some  sophistic  discourses, 

310 


Attic  Philosophy  311 

of  which  we  have  two  probably  authentic  passages,  rather  dull  on  the 
whole  (the  discourses  of  Ajax  and  (Edipus  in  the  dispute  about  the 
arms  of  Achilles)  ;  *  and  some  forty  philosophic  works,  many  of  them 
dialogues.  In  these  he  develops  the  Cynic  doctrines :  the  vanity  of 
all  knowledge  based  on  general  ideas ;  and  the  necessity  of  practical 
virtue,  or  wisdom,  which  consists  in  being  emancipated  from  all 
need.  The  writings  of  Antisthenes  were  considered  in  antiquity 
literary  works  of  great  merit ;  apparently  they  were  thought  eloquent 
and  spirited ;  we  can  no  longer  judge  of  the  matter.  Aristippus 
of  Cyrene  also  wrote  extensively.^  He  made  pleasure  the  end  of 
life,  but  wished  the  search  for  it  to  be  governed  by  reason.  He 
expounded  his  doctrines  in  dialogues  of  which  we  know  almost 
nothing. 

Other  disciples  of  Socrates,  without  becoming  heads  of  schools, 
were  philosophic  writers.  The  most  important  one  was  ^schines,  son 
of  Lysanias,  both  orator  and  philosopher,  whose  Socratic  dialogues, 
seven  in  number,  won  him  a  great  reputation.  He  reproduced  so 
truthfully  the  tone  of  Socrates's  conversation  that  Menedemus  of 
Eretria,  his  enemy,  accused  him  of  having  stolen  the  dialogues  from 
Socrates  himself,  with  the  complicity  of  Xanthippe.  No  better 
eulogy  of  his  genius  could  be  pronounced.  His  writings  are  to-day 
wholly  unknown.^ 

Finally,  a  closely  related  group  comprises  two  other,  semi-philo- 
sophic writers,  who  have  a  prominent  place  in  the  history  of  litera- 
ture: Isocrates,  whom  we  shall  meet  later  among  the  orators;  and 
Xenophon,  who,  although  a  many-sided  writer,  is  sufficiently  a  mor- 
alist and  sufficiently  Socratic  to  obtain  a  place  among  the  philoso- 
phers, or  at  least  beside  them. 

2.  Xenophon :  his  Life  and  Works ;  General  Character  of  his  Gen- 
ius.'* —  Xenophon,  son  of  Gryllus,  was  born  in  the  Attic  deme  of 
Erchia,  probably  between  430  and  425.     He  is  said  to  have  taken 

1  Published  by  Bla.ss  in  his  Antiphon.  sup.  cit. 

2  Fragments  in  Mullach,  Fragm.  Phil.  GnKC.  II,  p.  274  if. 

3  Fragments  in  Hermann,  De  ^fJsr funis  Socratici  lieliquiis,  Gottingen,  ISaO, 
*  Bibliography  :  Complete  editions  ;  Didot  Collection,  Paris,  1839  ;  Sauppe, 

Leipsic,  Tauchnitz,  1867-1870  ;  Dindorf,  Leipsic,  Teubner,  several  editions. 
Editions  of  separate  works  :  Memornhilia  by  Breitenbach,  Weidemann  ;  and  by 
Gilbert,  Teubner  ;  Anabasis  by  Vollbrecht.  Teubner  ;  Cyropaedia  by  Hertlein, 
Weidemann  ;  and  by  A.  Hug,  Teubner;  Economics  by  Ch.  Graux,  Paris,  Ha- 
chette.  1878;  and  by  Holden,  London.  188l».  A  complete  English  edition  of 
the  Works  w;us  begun  by  Burnet,  Oxford,  19(X). 

p:nglish  translation  by  II.  G.  Dakyns,  London.  1890-1897  ;  The  Art  of  Horse- 
manship. M.  II.  Morgan,  Boston,  1893  ;  French  translations  by  Pcssoneaux, 
Charpentier  ;  and  by  Talbot,  Hachette.  Dictionary  of  the  Anabasis  by  White 
and  Morgan.  Boston,  1892. 

Consult :  Ilartmann,  Analecta  Xenophontca  and  Analecta  Xen.  Nova,  Ley- 
den,  1887  and  1889. 


312  Greek  Literature 

lessons  of  Prodicus.  But  he  was  attached  chiefly  to  Socrates,  whose 
influence  over  him  was  profound.  Diogenes  Laertius  reports  as  fol- 
lows the  origin  of  this  relation :  One  day  Socrates  met  the  young 
Xenophon  without  knowing  him,  and  noticing  his  fair  countenance, 
which  seemed  the  very  mirror  of  honesty,  prevented  him  with  his 
cane  from  passing,  and  asked  him  where  to  go  to  buy  the  necessaries 
of  life.  ''  To  the  market,"  said  Xenophon.  "  And  to  become  an 
honest  man,  where  must  one  go  ?  "  Xenophon  knew  not  how  to  reply. 
*'  Follow  me,  then,"  said  Socrates.  The  anecdote  is  pretty,  even  if  it 
be  not  true. 

In  401,  when  Cyrus  was  making  ready  for  his  expedition  against 
his  brother,  a  friend  of  Xenophon,  the  Boeotian  Proxenus,  who  was 
about  to  take  part  in  it,  induced  Xenophon  to  do  likewise.  Young, 
active,  adventurous,  he  was  persuaded  without  delay.  Yet  he  asked 
advice  of  Socrates,  who  bade  him  consult  the  oracle  at  Delphi. 
Xenophon  tells  us  that  he  had  the  adroitness  so  to  put  his  question 
to  the  god  as  to  obtain  the  response  he  wished.  Then  he  departed, 
being  "  neither  general,  nor  officer,  nor  soldier,"  but  a  simple 
amateur,  eager  to  visit  a  strange  laud  and  take  part  in  an  interest- 
ing military  expedition.  Step  by  step,  circumstances  made  him  the 
real  chief  of  the  Ten  Thousand,  and  he  direc-ted  their  retreat. 

Having  again  obtained  freedom,  he  returned  to  Greece,  probably 
to  Athens  ;  but  he  did  not  remain  long.  In  3%  Agesilaus  was  com- 
missioned to  prosecute  the  war  against  Pharnabazus.  Xenophon 
■accompanied  him  to  Asia  !Minor.  When  the  Spartan  king  was 
recalled  to  Greece  because  his  country  was  threatened  by  a  coalition 
between  Thebes  and  Athens,  Xenophon  returned  with  him,  and  so 
was  present  in  the  Spartan  ranks  at  the  battle  of  Coron^ea,  where 
his  countrymen  were  fighting  against  Agesilaus.  In  Greece  in  the 
fourth  century,  wars  between  cities  were,  in  a  sense,  civil  wars ;  an 
aristocratic  Athenian  readily  took  sides  with  Lacediemon.  Xeno- 
phon probably  thought  himself  more  closely  attached  to  the  person 
of  Agesilaus  than  to  the  democracy  of  Athens ;  and  so  what  we  con- 
sider a  crime  against  Athens  seemed  to  him  and  to  many  of  his 
countrymen  quite  the  natural  thing. 

About  the  same  time  the  state  passed  against  him  a  decree  of 
exile.  There  has  been  much  discussion  about  its  date  and  causes. 
It  seems  to  have  been  due  to  the  j)art  he  took  in  the  expedition 
against  Pharnabazus,  whj  was  the  ally  of  Athens.  In  any  case, 
Xenophon  was  deprived  of  his  property  and  obliged  to  live  abroad. 
He  went  to  the  Peloponnesus,  where  the  Lacedaemonians  gave  him 
a  rich  domain  near  Scillus  in  the  plain  of  Elis.  He  lived  there  I 
many   years   with  his   wife  and  two  sons,   Gryllus  and    Diodorus.  ! 


Attic  Philosophy  313 

"  Here  he  passed  his  time,"  says  Diogenes  Laertius,  "  receiving  his 
friends  and  writing  his  works."  He  has  left  us  a  pleasing  picture 
of  his  domain,  with  its  great  forests  and  its  little  temple  of 
Artemis.^  He  was  obliged  to  quit  it  in  371,  owing  to  a  war  between 
Sparta  and  Elis.  He  retired  first  to  Lepreum,  and  then  to  Corinth. 
It  is  not  certain  that  he  returned  to  Athens ;  but  the  decree  of 
exile  was  finally  revoked,  probably  about  365.  At  this  time,  Athens 
and  Sparta  were  about  to  form  an  alliance  against  Thebes.  In  362 
his  two  sons  were  found  in  the  ranks  of  the  Athenian  cavalry  that 
fought  by  the  side  of  the  Spartans  at  Mantinaea.  Gryllus  perished 
on  the  battle-field.  His  glorious  death,  celebrated  in  numerous  con- 
temporary writings,  sealed  the  reconciliation  between  Xenophon  and 
his  country.     He  survived  his  son  apparently  about  ten  years. 

■'  Xenophon  left  numerous  works,  varying  much  in  subject  and 
form.  Omitting  the  Republic  of  Athens,  which  cannot  be  his,  and 
the  treatise  On  Hunting,  whose  authenticity  is  at  least  doubtful,^ 
there  remain  a  dozen  works,  some  of  great  importance.  Several 
relate  to  Socrates  {Ajjology,  Memorabilia,  Symposium) ;  others  to 
the  active  life  of  a  soldier  or  a  commander-in-chief  (Anabasis,  Ilip- 
parchus,  On  Horsemanship,  Cyropoidia)  ;  others  to  family  and  city 
life  {Economics,  Republic  of  Sparta,  Hiero,  Revenues) ;  and  some  to 
history  (Agesilaits,  Hellenica).  Most  of  them  seem  to  have  been 
composed  at  Scillus  in  the  last  years  of  his  life.  Whatever  their 
dates,  the  essential  unity  of  their  inspiration  is  everywhere  visible. 

He  is  a  perfect  specimen  of  the  KaXo?  Kdya^d?,  the  "  honest  man," 
as  conceived  by  the  Athenian  mind  at  the  end  of  the  fifth  century  : 
rich,  well-born,  vigorous,  fond  of  active  life,  of  sound,  well-bahinced 
mind,  judicious,  not  over  enthusiastic,  obedient  to  reason,  thoughtful 
of  good  order  and  harmony,  and  as  highly  educated  as  was  possible 
for  a  well-bred  Athenian  in  the  time  of  the  sophists  and  Socrates.  To 
this  essential,  general  character,  he  added  a  large  personal  element; 
a  liking  for  reasoning  about  actions  and  discussing  them.  Under 
different  conditions,  he  inight  not  have  written  anything ;  but  one 
cannot  think  of  his  remaining  silent,  and  not  expressing  the  theories 
he  formed  from  the  incidents  of  experience.  He  has  a  genius  for 
dissertation   and   for   giving   instruction.      If   he   had   not   known 

1  Anah.  V,  ?,,  8-1.3. 

-  The  treatise  On  Hunting  is  of  mediocre  interest,  but  that  on  tlie  TlepuhUc 
of  Athins  is  well  worthy  of  attention.  It  is  the  work  of  a  clear-sighted  aristo- 
crat. wh(\  durini:  the  first  half  of  the  Peloponnesian  War,  sets  forth  with  rare 
acumen  the  fundamental  principles  of  the  policy  followed  bj'  the  Athenian 
democracy,  commending  it  from  the  practical  standpoint,  but  condemning  it 
outright  from  the  moral  one.  The  text  is  faulty  in  places,  but  the  work  is  col- 
lectively of  the  deepest  interest.  One  may  well  regret  that  the  author  is  not 
known. 


314  Grreek  Literature 

Socrates,  his  taste  would  have  found  expression  less  methodically, 
yet  scarcely  less  abundantly.  He  found  in  Socrates,  apart  from 
religious  and  practical  morals  perfectly  in  accord  with  his  senti- 
ments, a  process  of  dialectic  that  revealed  to  him  his  talent,  and 
that  he  employed  at  once  with  a  copious,  lucid  facility  well  befitting 
a  discursive  writer.  He  had  still  another  characteristic :  a  vein  of 
fantastic,  romantic  imagination.  His  fondness  for  theory  and 
thoroughly  reasonable  order  was  satisfied  only  in  ideal  constructions, 
in  which  the  practical  side  of  his  mind  could  be  united  with  com- 
plete freedom  of  imagination.  He  does  not  stop  long  over  the  com- 
plexities of  his  subject.  He  is  optimistic  and  somewhat  artless. 
He  resembles  Saint-Pierre  and  Fenelon  in  believing  in  providential 
harmonies,  ideal  Salentes  and  imaginary  Sesostrises ;  and  he  talks 
incessantly,  like  Mentor. 

His  art  is  adapted  to  his  intellectual  nature  with  perfect  exact- 
ness and  expresses  it  faithfully.  He  is  not  an  artist  of  the  first 
order,  but  there  is  much  that  is  pleasing,  with  his  ingenious  clear- 
ness, his  want  of  pretension,  his  iuamditas  inaffectata,  in  the  words 
of  Quintilian,  where  the  "  honest  man "  expresses  himself  in  good- 
standard  Attic. 

Purists  have  noted  in  his  language  some  forms  peculiar  to  him- 
self. Born  in  a  rustic  deme  and  estranged  from  Athens  during  the 
greater  part  of  his  life,  he  does  not  wholly  follow  the  city's  fashions. 
His  diction  is  Attic  slightly  tinged  with  the  archaism  of  the  country. 
His  style  is  simple  and  elegant,  better  defined  than  that  of  Herodotus, 
but  less  delicately  artistic  than  that  of  Lysias.  It  is  the  spoken 
language  of  a  lucid  intelligence,  more  concerned  with  things  than 
words,  and  excelling  in  the  power  of  arranging  its  ideas.  He  always 
proceeds  by  analysis,  and  enumerates  all  the  parts  of  a  whole,  some- 
times with  rather  slow  progress,  yet  clearly  and  pleasingly.  Some- 
times he  marks  similarity  of  thought  by  external  symmetry  of  words, 
yet  lightly,  without  emphasis,  and  even  in  a  somewhat  superficial 
manner.  In  the  passages  that  he  wishes  to  render  exceptionally 
vigorous,  lie  imitates  chiefly  Prodicus.  His  invention  is  like  his 
style,  orderly,  easy,  lucid,  and  without  much  concentration  or  vigor. 
It  is  juxtaposition  rather  than  organization.  His  dissertation  imi- 
tating Socrates  is  easy-going,  lucid,  not  showy,  sometimes  rather 
lengthy.  In  oratorical  art,  these  qualities  give  rise  to  a  penetrating, 
persuasive  eloquence,  addressed  to  reason  rather  than  to  sentiment, 
a])pealing  to  practical  interests  rather  tlian  to  generous  emotion,  to 
factts  rather  than  ideas,  and  calculated  to  lead  to  wise  resolutions. 
Tlie  discourses  which  he  addresses  to  the  Ten  Thousand  in  the 
Anabasis  are  excellent  models  from  this  point  of  view.     One  must 


Attic  Philosophy  315 

not  expect  in  his  narrative  profound  force,  brilliant  lustre,  intensity 
of  life,  or  unusual  scientific  precision ;  but  the  charm  that  a  narration 
obtains  from  clear  first  impression,  judicious  choice  of  details,  evident 
order,  and  easy,  gentle  movement,  is  found  in  many  of  his  narratives. 
The  Anabasis  and  the  Cyropoedia  contain  numerous  examples.  If 
he  wishes  to  go  further,  to  represent,  like  a  dramatic  poet,  fictitious 
or  real  personages,  such  as  Socrates  and  Hiero,  or  romantic  heroes 
like  some  of  those  in  the  Cyropcedia,  he  is  still  pleasing ;  but  he  does 
not  attain  really  creative  art.  He  lacks  the  best  qualities  of  drama, 
the  power  to  give  life  to  beings  different  from  his  own  personality. 
All  his  characters,  including  Socrates,  assume  something  of  his  like- 
ness ;  and  all  come  more  or  less  short  of  seeming  real.  They  are 
abstract  and  too  talkative.  Some  portraits,  however,  are  sketched 
with  grace ;  for  example,  that  of  Cyrus  in  childhood,  in  the  Cyropcedia  ; 
but  the  drawing  is  always  light  and  unimpressive. 

3.  His  Socratic  Writings.  —  Xenophon  gives  Socrates  a  part  in 
the  Apology,  the  Memorabilia,  the  Economics,  and  the  Symposium. 
But  the  Economics,  although  early  connected  with  the  Memorabilia, 
really  springs  from  a  different  and  more  personal  inspiration,  which 
we  shall  discuss  later  on.  The  Apology,  which,  perhaps,  was  part 
of  a  first  edition  of  the  Memorabilia,  is  not  important.  There 
remain  the  Symposium  and  the  Memorabilia. 

The  Symposium  appears  to  have  been  written  as  a  sort  of  re- 
sponse to  the  Symposium  of  Plato,  with  the  claim  of  being  truer. 
The  setting,  however,  is  fictitious ;  for  the  date  of  the  narrative  is 
p\it  in  the  year  421,  when  Xenophon  could  not  have  been  a  witness 
of  the  events,  and  certainly  could  not  have  remembered  them.  The 
discussion  turns  on  love  as  in  Plato's  Symposium.  There  are  pleas- 
ing details,  especially  the  description  of  the  hyporchema  which  ends 
the  festival ;  but  to  appreciate  the  amiable  composition  fully,  one 
must  lose  sight  of  the  other  Symposium  altogether.  Though  per- 
haps less  faithful  to  the  strict  reality  of  facts,  it  is  only  the  other 
that  will  last  forever  in  the  remembrance  of  posterity. 

The  Memorabilia  is  the  chief  work  in  the  group  consecrated  to 
the  memory  of  Socrates.  Taking  away  some  few  chapters  that  give 
double  accounts  of  the  same  events  or  break  the  continuity  of 
thought,  and  that  come  probably,  with  many  alterations  of  detail, 
from  a  double  edition  of  the  work,  its  plan  is  sim^jle.  In  a  sort  of 
preface  at  the  beginning,  the  author  replies  to  the  positive  counts  in 
the  accusation  against  Socrates  —  not  only  those  of  Anytus  and 
IVIeletus,  but  also  those  of  a  sophist,  a  certain  Polycrates,  who  had 
attacked  his  memory  later,  six  or  seven  years  after  his  death.  After 
this    summary    refutation,    he    attempts    to   substitute    a   truthful 


316  Ghreek  Literature 

portrait  of  Socrates  for  the  false  image  that  had  been  conceived  of 
him.  In  a  few  pages  he  describes  his  life.  Then  in  the  body  of 
the  work  he  exemplifies  by  dialogues  the  instruction  of  Socrates 
concerning  piety,  temperance,  the  principal  virtues,  the  useful  arts, 
and  dialectic.  A  short  conclusion  terminates  the  work.  There  is 
no  doubt  that  these  dialogues,  which  are  given  as  having  come  from 
Socrates,  are  real,  though  somewhat  free,  restorations.  In  order  to 
understand  Socrates  well,  it  is,  however,  indispensable  to  correct 
them  by  the  help  of  Plato.  From  this  point  of  view,  they  have  a 
no  less  considerable  documentary  value.  Moreover,  they  help  us  to 
understand  Xenophon.  The  manner  in  which  the  teachings  of 
Socrates  are  narrowed,  rendered  crude,  limited  to  a  utilitarian  point 
of  view,  wonderfully  discloses  Xenophon  himself.  Religious  meta- 
physics are  given  little  place.  Dialectic  is  scarcely  more  than  a 
method  of  neat,  precise  conversation,  a  process  of  potent  eloquence, 
^lilitary  art,  on  the  contrary,  is  emphasized  out  of  all  proportion. 
A  certain  goodness  and  tenderness  of  heart  in  the  discussion  relat- 
ing to  the  family  inspire  really  exquisite  pages,  of  which  Xenophon 
no  doubt  deserves  to  receive  part  of  the  honor  as  well  as  Socrates ; 
for  they  manifest  the  spirit  of  the  Economics. 

4.  His  Political  and  Military  Writings.  —  Xenophon's  political  idea 
is  both  military  and  paternal.  His  ideas  on  the  functions  of  a  gen- 
eral or  of  the  head  of  a  family  are,  as  it  were,  the  preface  of  his 
ideas  on  the  organization  of  a  city.  It  is  natural,  then,  to  unite  into 
one  group  the  numerous  writings  in  which  he  has  touched  upon 
these  subjects. 

In  the  Anabasis,  under  the  form  of  military  memoirs,  and  in  the 
Cyropoedia,  under  the  form  of  historic  romance,  Xenophon  has  very 
clearly  defined  his  idea  of  a  commander.  The  true  general  is  brave, 
vigorous,  adroit  in  stratagem,  fertile  in  resources ;  but  above  all  he 
is  a  leader  of  men.  He  is  an  intelligence  and  a  will  —  a  persuasive 
orator,  capable  of  infusing  his  own  spirit  into  the  crowd  of  those 
who  listen  to  him,  and  of  making  their  obedience  easy  by  making  it 
voluntary.  Socrates,  the  true  general,  who  has  a  ''royal  spirit," 
expects  nothing  but  from  persuasion ;  or  at  least,  if  he  has  recourse 
to  force,  it  is  only  as  a  last  resort  and  by  exception,  when  speech 
proves  im|)otent.  But  for  him  who  can  use  it,  speech  is  rarely 
imjjotent,  if  it  is  reasonable  and  gets  its  authority  from  a  confidence 
based  upon  experience.  The  philosophy  of  military  command  in- 
spires all  the  autlior's  ]H)litical  and  military  writings,  and  is  found  even 
in  the  other  works,  when  occasion  allows.  Added  to  the  precise 
knowledge  of  the  sjiecialist,  it  increases  the  value  of  the  brief  work 
entitled  Ilipparchus.     This  is  a  discourse  addressed  to  a  friend  who 


Attic  Philosophy  317 

has  just  been  given  command  of  a  detachment  of  Athenian  cavalry. 
His  counsels  show  the  experience  and  authority  of  a  man  already 
recognized  as  a  master  in  these  matters,  and  touch  upon  the  recruit- 
ing of  cavaliers,  the  management  of  troops,  the  exercises,  and  the 
manner  of  fighting  with  cavalry.  Two  or  three  details  are  pecul- 
iarly characteristic  of  his  spirit:  he  wishes  that  the  chief  inspire 
love  and  confidence  in  his  troops,  that  he  be  mindful  of  all  the 
details  even  in  the  time  of  peace,  and  that  he  be  pious,  to  gain  the 
favor  of  the  gods.  Xenophon  feels  an  artistic  admiration  for  a 
splendid  troop  of  cavaliers.  There  is  the  same  spirit  in  the  brief 
treatise  On  Horsemanship.  Amid  precise  technical  details  of  an  art 
that  he  understood  thoroughly,  he  has  charming  passages  upon  the 
beauty  of  a  well-trained  horse  prancing  along,  or  on  the  resemblance 
of  an  adroit  cavalier  with  the  equestrian  images  of  gods  and  heroes 
as  sculptured,  for  example,  by  Phidias.  We  shall  consider  later 
the  Cyropcedia  and  the  Anabasis,  in  which  he  has  written  more  than 
simply  his  ideal  of  a  commander. 

Aside  from  the  profession  of  arms,  the  great  practical  school  of 
the  statesman,  in  the  eyes  of  Xenophon,  is  the  family.  Governing 
a  household  well  is  like  governing  a  city.  The  Economics  develops 
his  views  on  the  subject.  Socrates  is  made  the  principal  personage 
of  the  dialogue.  But  in  reality  he  disappears  behind  Ischomachus, 
whose  words  he  utters,  and  whose  name  is  only  a  pseudonym  for 
Xenophon.  About  agriculture  or  even  about  governing  a  household, 
Socrates,  who  never  left  Athens,  but  passed  his  life  in  the  public 
square,  evidently  knew  less  than  the  owner  of  the  domain  at  Scillus. 
Notwithstanding  some  pages  of  rather  arid  dialectic,  the  Economics 
is  one  of  his  most  enjoyable  writings.  Nowhere  has  he  given  more 
of  his  most  amiable  qualities :  lofty  ideals  of  family  duties  and  pleas- 
ures, affectionate,  winsome  conduct,  and  fondness  for  healthy,  simple 
exercise.  He  passionately  loves  that  of  which  he  speaks,  life  in 
the  fields,  surrounded  by  honest  affections  and  regular  activity. 
His  hero,  Tschomachus,  does  not  dream  over  the  beauty  of  nature, 
like  Vergil ;  nor  sleep  in  the  Epicurean  quiet  of  Horace,  happy  in 
being  free  for  a  little  time  from  the  turmoil  of  the  city.  He  loves 
agriculture  because  it  is  a  useful  art,  worthy  of  a  free  man,  occupy- 
ing without  absorbing  him,  and  demanding  rather  moral  quality  than 
knowledge  of  technical  facts.  He  can  govern  his  household.  He 
knows  how  to  win  his  wife's  affections  and  the  respect  of  his  slaves. 
His  way  of  educating  his  wife  is  described  in  exquisite  form.  She 
was  fifteen  and  ignorant.  He  began  by  praying  to  the  gods  with 
her  to  give  her  confidence.  Only  then  did  he  begin  to  teach  her,  to 
direct  her  with  reason  and  gentleness,  delighting  to  explain  to  her 


318  Chreek  Literature 

her  duties  and  see  her  eager  to  perform  them.  "  One  of  your  func- 
tions, which  may  not  please  you,  will  be  to  watch  over  servants  in 
their  illness  and  seek  to  cure  them."  "  Why  !  "  replied  the  young 
woman,  ''  I  could  find  no  more  agreeable  occupation,  since  they  will 
be  grateful  for  my  attentions,  and  more  attached  to  me  than  before." 
The  slaves,  in  fact,  in  this  household,  are  considered  as  men.  It  is 
not  Ischomachus  who,  following  the  precept  of  Cato,  would  sell  old 
slaves  with  old  horses  and  old  iron.  If  he  found  power  of  reason  in 
a  slave,  he  treated  him  as  a  free  man.^  Few  writings  do  more  honor 
than  the  Economics,  not  only  to  Xenophon,  but  to  Athenian  civiliza- 
tion in  general. 

The  love  of  order  and  reason  so  strong  in  Xenophon  could 
scarcely  find  satisfaction  in  the  tumultuous,  passionate  life  of  the 
Athenian  democracy.  Like  Socrates,  he  had  little  respect  for  the 
popular  assemblies.'^  Although  he  seems  to  have  thought  that  edu- 
cated men  should  take  part  in  politics,'  and  though,  toward  the  end 
of  his  life,  he  wrote  the  treatise  On  Revenues  to  give  his  country 
wise  council  on  the  administration  of  her  finances,  it  is  clear  that  his 
ideal  was  far  different  from  the  picture  presented  by  the  democratic 
city  of  his  time.  He  found  it  realized  more  completely  at  Sparta, 
as  did  many  Athenian  aristocrats ;  but  even  Sparta,  on  the  whole, 
was  far  from  satisfying  him.  The  treatise  on  the  RepxMic  of  Sparta 
is  much  less  a  faithful  than  an  idealized  portrait.  What  he  praises 
in  the  little  work  are  the  laws  of  Lycurgus  on  education,  the  public 
tables,  the  gymnasium,  the  absence  of  commerce  and  industry,  the 
respect  for  laws  and  magistrates,  and  above  all,  the  military  institu- 
tions which  produce  an  army  so  warlike  and  well  disciplined.  He 
avows,  in  an  interesting  epilogue,  that  the  Sparta  he  has  described 
no  longer  exists,  and  that,  in  fact,  he  has  described  a  dream.  A 
dream,  too,  is  the  dialogue  entitled  Hiero,  and  the  whole  Cyropcedia. 
In  the  Hiero,  he  explains  how  even  a  tyrant  can  secure  his  happiness 
through  that  of  his  subjects.  The  poet  Simonides  teaches  Hiero  of 
Syracuse  wise  maxims,  in  which  are  evinced  the  ingenious  spirit  of 
Xenophon  and  his  sometimes  rather  commonplace  good  sense.  It 
is  evident,  also,  that  the  rule  of  one  man,  if  exercised  reasonably  and 
gently,  in  no  way  displeased  him.  The  same  ideal  is  found  in  the 
Cyropcedia.  In  the  first  book,  there  is  a  picture  of  the  Persian  city 
in  which  young  Cyrus  was  brought  up :  a  real  Salente,  with  its 
"  free  square  "  (dyopa  iXevOepa),  in  which  stand  the  king's  palace  and 
the  tribunal,  but  from  which  merchants  are  excluded  as  likely  to  dis- 
turb the  good  order  of  the  exercises.  In  this  Persian  city,  each  age 
has  its  part  and  its  proper  functions;  a  good  education  is  the  in- 

1  Econ.  14,  9.  2  jfgjn.  I,  2,  9-10  ;  cf.  Ill,  5,  '  Ibid.  Ill,  7. 


Attic  Philosophy  319 

dispensable  condition  for  filling  offices  of  state.  In  the  later  books, 
Cyrus  organizes  his  empire,  which  is  partly  obtained  by  conquest. 
From  one  boundary  to  the  other,  all  is  brought  about  by  the  king's 
will,  yet  wisely,  gently,  even  agreeably.  The  Persian  empire  is  like 
a  great  army  at  rest,  with  Cyrus  as  general.  He  is,  moreover,  a  gen- 
eral fully  meeting  Xenophon's  ideals  —  as  liberal  as  could  be,  accom- 
plishing his  aims  by  persuasion  rather  than  by  force.  There  is  no 
doubt  that,  in  the  last  analysis,  this  was  the  supreme  goal  toward 
which  tended,  in  politics,  the  thought  of  the  leader  of  the  Ten  Thou- 
sand, the  head  of  yonder  family  at  Scillus,  exiled  from  Athens  by 
the  democracy  which  had  put  Socrates  to  death. 

5.  His  Historical  Writings.  —  The  Anabasis  is  the  story  of  the 
expedition  (dva^ao-ts)  of  the  Ten  Thousand,  and  particularly  of  the 
great  part  which  Xenophon  was  given  in  it.  We  have,  then,  personal 
memoirs  as  well  as  a  strictly  historical  work.  Other  participants, 
particularly  Sophaenetus  of  Stymphalus,  had  given  an  account  of  it. 
Xenophon  probably  did  not  have  the  importance  which  he  claims ; 
for  various  Greek  historians,  using  the  same  sources,  were  able  to 
write  the  history  of  the  campaign  without  even  naming  him.  He 
afterward  gave  his  account  of  the  events ;  and,  having  a  didactic 
spirit,  used  the  opportunity  to  give  in  detail  his  motives  in  each  cir- 
cumstance, sometimes  in  the  course  of  the  story  itself,  sometimes 
through  discourses  addressed  to  the  soldiers.  He  speaks  of  himself 
in  the  third  person.  The  work  appeared  at  first  under  the  pseu- 
donym of  Themistogenes  of  Syracuse,  but  this  was  only  a  light  veil 
easily  pierced  through.  Wliat  is  the  historic  value  of  the  Anabasis  ? 
It  is  evident  at  once  that  the  numerous  discourses  have  been  freely 
recast  with  an  evident  apologetic  and  didactic  purpose.  In  the  nar- 
rative itself,  it  is  easy  to  see  that,  notwithstanding  his  modest  tone 
and  assumed  good  taste,  he  was  at  pains  not  to  let  himself  be  for- 
gotten. Hence  the  Anabasis  is  indefinite  in  character,  and  cannot 
all  be  accepted  literally.  Yet  with  the  exception  noted,  one  must 
admit  that  it  is  a  masterpiece,  and  that  everywhere,  when  the  design 
of  apology  and  instruction  is  not  too  evident,  the  truth  of  the  state- 
ments and  the  interest  of  the  descriptions  merit  only  eulogy.  In 
the  first  two  books,  where  Xenophon  scarcely  appears  in  person,  he 
recounts  tlie  departure  of  the  Greeks,  the  advance  of  the  troops  with 
Cyrus,  the  battle  of  Cunaxa,  the  prince's  death,  and  the  assassination 
of  Clearchus  and  the  remaining  Greek  generals.  The  narrative  is 
vivid,  hurried,  elegant.  The  account  of  Cunaxa  is  one  of  the  best 
reports  of  a  battle  in  Greek  literature  —  clear  and  picturesque,  with- 
out digression  or  verbosity.  The  portraits  of  the  generals  are  skil- 
fully drawn.     The  last  five  books  tell  of  the  retreat.     From  then  on, 


320  Greek  Literature 

Xenophon  is  constantly  in  the  foreground.  The  scene  where  he  first 
reveals  himself  to  the  army,  after  the  night  of  terror  succeeding  the 
massacre  of  the  generals,  is  both  touching  and  simple  in  its  descrip- 
tion of  the  manner  in  which  he  revives  their  courage.  The  terrible 
marches  through  the  snow-covered  mountains  of  Armenia,  the  sight 
of  the  sea,  the  return,  are  all  dramatic  events ;  and  amid  them,  the 
discontent,  the  suspicions,  the  murmurs  of  revolt,  are  always  con- 
trolled by  his  reasonable,  persuasive  speech.  Minimise  a  little, 
possibly,  his  personal  career,  and  the  substance  of  the  story  still  re- 
mains true.  It  is  told  with  extreme  charm ;  and  that  career,  though 
somewhat  idealized,  offers  considerable  that  is  interesting  in  the  way 
of  psychological  and  military  instruction. 

His  other  great  historical  work  is  the  Hellenica.  We  shall  not 
speak  of  the  Agesilans,  as  it  is  an  oratorical  eulogy,  whose  essential 
elements  are  taken  from  the  Hellenica  itself.  His  first  object  in 
writing  the  Hellenica  was  to  continue  Thucydides.  In  the  first  two 
books,  he  recounts  the  end  of  the  Peloponnesian  War ;  and  his  work, 
though  lacking  the  profound  vigor  of  his  model,  is  still  very  com- 
mendable. Then  he  undertook  to  recount  the  events  succeeding  the 
Peloponnesian  War ;  and  so,  little  by  little,  arrived  at  the  battle  of 
Mantinea  in  362.  The  second  part,  probably  written  in  different 
periods  of  his  life,  loses  more  and  more  the  objective  clearness  of 
the  early  books.  As  he  departs  farther  from  Thucydides,  he  allows 
his  history  to  become  more  and  more  dominated  by  moralizing  ten- 
dencies, till  it  becomes  a  moral  and  political  sermon,  with  little  care 
for  chronolog}',  exact  sequence  of  events,  relative  importance  of  men 
and  things,  or  the  impartiality  indispensable  in  the  historian.  He 
has  only  eulogies  for  Sparta.  He  detests  Thebes  and  Epaminondas, 
scarcely  naming  the  latter.  The  Hellenica  has  everywhere  pleasing 
pages,  yet  the  decline  in  the  last  books  is  imdeniable.  In  fact,  it 
must  not  be  judged  as  a  single  work:  the  first  two  books,  which  are 
excellent,  must  be  set  apart ;  and  in  the  rest,  one  must  recognize  that 
the  author's  old  age  becomes  more  and  more  evident. 

6.  Conclusion.  The  Cyropmdia.  —  If  the  question  were  asked  in 
which  work  of  Xenophon  he  shows  his  character  most  completely, 
in  which  one  the  phases  of  his  complex  genius  are  combined  and  rep- 
resented in  the  most  exact  manner,  we  should  need  to  name,  prob- 
ably, the  Ci/ropoidia.  Other  works  of  his  may  be  more  perfect ;  but 
none  show  l)etter  what  he  was  as  a  whole,  with  his  fondness  for 
military  life,  his  political  views,  his  passion  for  talking,  story-telling, 
moralizing,  and  his  concealed  vein  of  sentimental,  romantic  imagi- 
nation. It  was  a  stran_f,'e  error  on  the  part  of  Rollin  to  take  the 
Cf/ropcedia  for  sober  history :  this   pretended  history  is   a  sort   of 


Attic  Philosophy  321 

T4l4inaque.  The  author  begins  with  Cyrus  at  his  birth,  and  tells  of 
his  education,  an  ideal  education  whose  consequences  appear  in  his 
whole  life.  He  became  an  excellent  general,  then  a  perfect  sover- 
eign. We  need  not  discuss  again  the  political  and  military  views 
that  underlie  the  work.  Let  us  notice  only,  as  pleasing  passages,  of 
great  interest  for  the  comprehension  of  the  author  as  a  writer  of 
romance,  the  scenes  of  the  first  book  in  which  he  presents  Cyrus  as 
a  child ;  and  the  celebrated  farewell  of  Abradatas  and  Panthea  in 
the  sixth. ^  Here  Xenophon  imitates  Homer :  he  wished  to  rewrite 
in  his  own  way  the  parting  of  Hector  and  Andromache.  At  the 
same  time,  he  wished  to  add  to  a  touching  beauty  of  natural  senti- 
ments the  moral  grandeur  of  honor,  conceived  in  the  manner  of 
Sparta  and  of  philosophy.  Andromache  pleads  with  her  husband 
that  he  should  not  perish ;  Panthea  exhorts  hers  to  do  his  duty, 
though  they  should  suffer  in  consequence.  The  idea  is  really  pretty 
and  eloquently  expressed.  Yet  in  the  mouth  of  Panthea,  the  elo- 
quence is  faulty  in  reproducing  too  closely  the  speech  —  always 
reasonable,  clear,  cold  —  of  the  excellent  moralizer  who  wrote  the 

wnrl^  — 

[  7.  Plato :  his  Life  and  Career.  —  Plato  is  not  only  the  greatest 
[pupil  of  Socrates,  but  a  master  of  art  and  thought  for  all  time.  As 
a  philosopher,  he  is  the  real  founder  of  idealism.  As  a  writer,  he 
is,  with  Demosthenes,  though  by  the  possession  of  different  quali- 
ties, the  cleverest  artist  in  Greek  prose,  and  so  one  of  the  first  prose 
writers  of  all  ages.- 

He  was  born  at  Athens,  probably  in  428,  of  a  purely  noble  fam- 
ily, which  claimed  descent  from  King  Codrus.  He  received  an  un- 
usually broad  education ;  besides  gymnastics  and  music,  he  studied 
painting.  From  the  first,  he  believed  himself  to  have  a  taste  for 
poetry,  and  composed  dithyrambs,  lyric  poems,  and  tragedies.  At 
the  same  time,  he  sought  a  higher  scientific  culture  at  the  hands 

1  Cyrop.  VI,  4. 

2  Biin.ioGKAi'iiY  :  Complete  editions  ;  vStallbauin,  10  vols..  Lcipsic,  Teubner, 
with  prolegomena  and  commentaries  in  Latin,  often  republished  from  1837  to 
1877  ;  Hirtzig-Schneider,  Didot ;  Ilermann-Wohlrab,  Teubner ;  M.  Schanz, 
Leipsic,  Tauchnitz,  1875.  and  years  following,  important  in  textual  criticism. 
Editions  of  the  RppubJic  by  .Jowett  and  Campbell,  Oxford,  1894  ;  of  the  Pfutdo 
by  Couvreur,  I'aris,  189.3.  Selected  dialogues  by  Kron-Deuschle.  Leipsic,  Teub- 
ner, ;>  vols.,  1881-1893.  Excellent  English  translation  with  introductions  and 
summary  by  15,  Jowett,  London,  Macmillan,  1892.  Excellent  French  transla- 
tion by  V.  Cousin  ;  others  by  Chauvet  and  Saisset.  German  translation  by 
Midler,  Leipsic,  Brockhaus,  1850-1806. 

Consult:  Chaignet,  La  Vie  et  les  enits  dc  Platon,  Paris,  1871  ;  drote.  Plato 
and  the  Other  Covipanions  of  Socrates.  London,  1885  ;  Ch.  Huit,  La  Vie  et  Voeuvre 
de  Platon,  I'aris,  1893;  A.  Fouillt^e,  La  Philosophie  de  Platon,  Paris,  2d  ed., 
1888  ;  Bosanquet.  A  Companion  to  Plato'' s  Republic,  New  York,  1895  ;  Hermann, 
Geschichte  und  Systevi  der  platonischen  Philosophie,  Heidelberg,  1839  ;  Susemihl, 
Die  genetische  Entioickelung  der  platonischen  Philosophie,  Leipsic,  1855. 


322  Cheek  Literature 

of  the  philosopher  Cratylus,  a  pupil  of  Heraclitus.  At  the  age  of 
twenty  he  met  Socrates,  to  whom  he  devoted  himself  thereafter 
without  reserve.  The  first  meeting  must  have  taken  place  about 
408,  so  that  he  had  eight  or  nine  years  in  which  to  enjoy  the  friend- 
ship of  that  remarkable  conversationalist.  Probably  he  gave  Soc- 
rates the  greater  part  of  his  time  during  the  period.  Political  life 
did  not  attract  him.  Diogenes  Laertius  says  that  his  voice  was 
feeble ;  so  he  lacked  the  prime  physical  quality  of  an  orator.  His 
idealistic  mind,  moreover,  was  little  fitted  for  the  contingencies  and 
occasional  grossness  of  practical  life.  At  the  moment  of  Socrates's 
death,  Plato  was  sick  and  could  not  be  present  to  witness  the  scene.^ 
Residence  in  Athens  was  becoming  intolerable,  if  not  dangerous,  for 
all  the  disciples  of  Socrates,  and  they  dispersed.  Plato  went  first 
to  Megara,  to  join  Euclid ;  then,  for  ten  or  twelve  years,  he  went  on 
extensive  journeys,  visiting  Cyrene,  Italy,  and  Egypt.  The  influence 
of  travel  on  his  thought  was  considerable.  At  Cyrene,  he  met  the 
mathematician  Theodorus,  whom  he  introduces  in  the  Theoetetus;  in 
Italy,  the  Pythagoreans,  Philolaus,  Archytas,  and  Tirageus ;  in  Egypt, 
he  came  in  contact  with  the  mystery  of  a  very  old  religious  civiliza- 
tion. Socrates,  content  with  Athens,  did  not  even  have  the  desiret 
for  such  travels ;  Plato  found  in  them  some  of  the  essential  ele-' 
ments  that  he  was  to  introduce  into  his  philosophy.  "When  about 
forty  years  of  age,  he  Avas  called  to  Sicily  for  the  first  time  by 
Dionysius  the  Elder,  tyrant  of  Syracuse,  at  the  instigation  of  the 
monarch's  brother-in-law  Dio.  The  honest  Dio,  a  friend  of  the 
Pythagoreans  of  Magna  Grsecia,  had  thought  that  Plato  would 
inspire  amiable  virtue  in  the  tyrant.  But  the  experiment  ended  in 
a  quarrel.^  Plato  returned  to  Athens  and  began  to  teach  in  the 
gymnasium  of  the  Academy.  Socrates  used  to  converse  every- 
where, with  chance  persons  whom  he  met  in  his  walks.  Plato 
habitually  met  his  disciples  and  friends  every  day  in  the  same 
place ;  philosophic  instruction  was  beginning  to  be  organized.  The 
Academy  was,  however,  rather  a  reunion  of  friends  than  strictly  a 
school.  The  pupils  conversed  and  discussed  very  freely  with  the 
master.  Philosophic  banquets  of  sage  frugality  from  time  to  time 
offered  both  master  and  pupils  the  occasion  for  scenes  like  those  in 
the  Sym}>osinm.^  Disciples  came  in  great  numbers.  Plato's  instruc- 
tion seems  to  have  been  interrupted  during  the  last  forty  years  of 
his  life  only  by  two  other  voyages  to  Sicily,  in  367  and  361.     Dio- 

1  rha:dn,  p.  .'>9  B. 

^  The  lojiend  tells  that  Plato  was  even  sold  as  a  slave,  and  regained  his  free- 
dom throuirh  the  intervention  of  a  Cyrenean,  who  bought  him  and  set  him  free. 
3  Athemcus,  X,  p.  410  C-D. 


Attic  Philosophy  323 

nysius  the  Younger  had  succeeded  Dionysius  the  Elder  in  368 ;  Dio, 
always  full  of  good  intentions,  could  not  be  content  with  his  pre- 
vious failure ;  the  second  and  third  attempts  did  not  succeed  better 
than  the  first.  Plato  died  in  347.  He  was  never  married.  His 
property  devolved  upon  his  nephew  and  pupil,  Speusippus,  who,  in 
turn,  bequeathed  this  fortune  to  his  own  disciples,  and  thus  made 
the  residence  of  Plato  the  permanent  home  of  the  school. 

The  Platonic  collection  includes  forty-two  dialogues,  thirteen 
letters,  and  some  detached  definitions.  We  shall  not  speak  of  the 
definitions,  as  they  are  mere  uninteresting  compilations  of  the 
school ;  nor  of  the  letters,  many  of  which  are  insignificant,  and 
none  authentic.  Of  the  dialogues,  a  dozen  were  rejected  by  the 
ancient  critics,  or  at  least  suspected  of  being  apocryphal.  Some 
modern  scholars  have  attempted  to  add  to  the  list  of  the  suspected 
dialogues ;  there  is  nothing  more  arbitrary,  in  general,  than  such 
proscriptions.  One  may  say  briefly  that  some  thirty  dialogues,  the 
most  important  ones  in  every  respect,  are  authentic  beyond  ques- 
tion, as  is  attested  by  citations  or  allusions  of  Aristotle,  or  by  the 
intrinsic  character  of  their  thought  and  style.  Plato  is  therefore 
perfectly  well  known.  He  is  one  of  a  very  small  number  of  Greek 
writers  whose  works  all  seem  to  have  been  preserved,  since  the 
close  of  antiquity. 

It  would  be  very  interesting  if  we  could  establish  the  chrono- 
logical order  of  the  dialogues,  as  this  would  permit  us  to  follow  the 
development  of  Plato's  thought.  In  default  of  external  evidence, 
which  is  rare,  various  means  have  been  tried  for  constituting  this 
chronology.  Men  have  depended  upon  allusions  to  contemporary 
events,  upon  the  degree  of  development  of  the  various  philosophic 
theories,  upon  the  references  of  one  dialogue  to  another,  and  upon 
the  character  of  the  style.  For  many  reasons  these  processes  are 
insuflieient  and  give  only  vague  results.  The  only  thing  absolutely 
certain  is  that  the  Laivs  was  his  last  work,  left  in  a  state  of  rough- 
ness, and  published  by  one  of  his  disciples.^  About  the  other  dia- 
logues it  is  best  not  to  be  too  positive.  Whatever  their  order,  the 
essential  features  of  his  doctrine  seem  evident  even  in  his  earliest 
writings,  immediately  after  he  finished  his  travels;  and  his  art, 
desjjite  minor  variations,  has  on  the  whole,  a  well-fixed  character. 

'  8.  Platonic  Doctrine.  —  It  is  not  our  plan  to  present  a  complete 
picture  of  Plato's  ])hilosophy,  nor  even  to  give  a  summary  suitable 
for  the  use  of  specialists  in  philosophy.  It  is  simply  the  literature 
in  which  we  are  concerned ;  and  philosophic  theories  are  part  of  the 
literature  only  as  they  bring  to  the  multitude  of  "  honest  folk  "  new 
1  Diog.  Laer.  Ill,  37. 


324  Greek  Literature 

general  ways  of  thinking  and  new  intellectual  and  moral  tendencies. 
From  this  point  of  view,  however,  the  work  of  Plato  was  so  con- 
siderable that  one  must  attempt  to  define  it  at  least  briefly. 

As  a  philosopher,  Plato  continues  Socrates  and  yet  surpasses  him 
in  every  sense.  He  retains  the  dialectic  method  of  his  master  and 
his  religious  and  moral  teaching.  But  he  adds  a  complete  metaphys- 
ics, in  which  elements  borrowed  from  Heraclitus,  Pythagoras,  and 
the  geometricians  combine  with  the  creations  of  his  own  genius  to 
form  a  bold,  splendid  product.  Like  Socrates,  he  analyzes  and  de- 
fines dialectically  the  notions  that  the  human  mind  has  existing 
within  it  —  beauty,  courage,  pleasure,  justice.  Like  Socrates  again, 
he  believes  in  final  causes  and  a  Providence.  But  there  is  a  difference. 
For  Socrates,  the  general  idea,  which  is  the  object  of  science,  is  only  a 
conception  of  the  mind;  for  Plato,  another  problem,  wholly  metar 
physical,  arises  at  once.  To  what  external,  objective  reality  does  the 
conception  in  the  mind  correspond  ?  He  replies  without  hesitating : 
the  general  idea  conceived  by  the  mind  has  an  independent, 
absolute  existence ;  it  is  a  being  by  itself,  without  which  knowledge, 
which  is  purely  subjective,  would  be  unstable  and  groundless.  The 
essential  principle  of  Platonism,  that  which  gives  it  its  proper 
character  and  binds  all  its  parts  together,  is  the  theory  of  Ideas. 
The  world  of  Ideas  is  alone  real.  "What  the  vulgar  call  reality  is 
only  the  sensible  image  of  the  eternal  Ideas.  These,  moreover,  are 
of  different  degrees  of  inclusiveness  as  they  are  more  or  less  general. 
The  supreme  Idea,  which  embraces  all  the  others,  the  source  of  all 
existence  and  all  knowledge,  is  the  Idea  of  Good. 

Science  consists  in  knowing  the  Ideas,  which  are  revealed  to  pure 
reason  when  freed  from  illusions  of  sense.  These  illusions  give  the 
vulgar  only  opinions  (Sd^ai),  variable  and  uncertain  as  the  sensible 
objects  which  produce  them.  Reason  alone,  rising  by  dialectic  to 
the  realm  of  Ideas,  constructs  knowledge  (cVio-tt^/it;),  which  is  the 
possession  of  a  solid,  demonstrable  verity.  Dialectic  progress  (iropua 
BtaXcKTiKt])  leads  the  mind  by  degrees  from  humble,  sensible  appear- 
ance to  the  corresponding  Idea,  then  on  to  a  higher  one,  and  so  on  to 
the  supreme  Idea,  which  is  the  Idea  of  Good.  Aside  from  dialectic, 
there  is,  strictly  speaking,  no  knowledge  whatever. 

But  does  this  mean  that  dialectic  suffices  for  everything  ?  Xo. 
Plato  seems  to  believe,  like  Socrates,  that  the  gods  have  reserved 
for  themselves  certain  facts  of  knowledge ;  and  like  Socrates,  he 
admits  that  they  can  communicate  certain  things  to  man  by  an 
inspiration.  Prophetic  trance  may  be  a  source  of  truth.  Plato 
has  too  vivid  an  imagination  not  to  be  fond  of  dreams,  of  the  free 
fancy  of  the  soul  trying  by  poetic  hypotheses  to  pass  the  limits  of 


Attic  Philosophy  325 

rigid  science.  He  loves  myths  for  their  beauty  and  for  the  flicker 
of  light  they  shed,  perhaps,  on  the  unknowable.  He  proclaims  at 
times  that  he  believes  them.  But  if  he  is  pleased  by  them,  he  is  i 
not  duped;  he  knows  well  and  says  plainly  that  the  beautiful  myths 
which  enchant  him  have  never  been  proved  true ;  that  faith  is  not 
knowledge  ;  and  that,  even  though  one  should  believe  them  true,  one 
is  not  warranted  in  affirming  that  they  are  so. 

The  organization  of  the  world  by  the  Creator,  the  creation  of 
inferior  divinities,  of  souls  and  bodies,  of  men  and  animals,  after 
the  pattern  of  the  Ideas,  and  by  the  mediation  of  numbers,  all  this 
marvellous  cosmogony  of  the  Tiviceus  belongs  to  the  domain  of  myth, 
not  that  of  science  proper.  Plato  had  tried  to  give,  in  the  Phcedo,  a 
dialectic  proof  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul ;  he  admits  also,  by 
positive  reasoning,  its  preexistence ;  but  as  to  the  ulterior  condition 
of  this  immortal  soul,  he  has  only  credence  and  hypothesis.  And 
his  conception  is  of  a  very  marked  popular  character.  The  Hell  of 
the  Middle  Ages  is  met  with  already  in  Plato. 

The  domain  of  dialectic,  for  Plato  as  for  Socrates,  is  really 
politics  and  morals,  the  practical  science  of  human  life.  jS^atural 
sciences  interest  him  but  little.  He  almost  ignores  Democritus,  his 
contemporary.  As  a  true  Athenian  he  attaches  himself  before  all 
else  to  man  living  in  society.  It  is  interesting  to  note  with  what 
logical  power  he  applies  his  political  and  moral  conceptions  to  this 
system  as  a  whole.  Here  again,  pure  reason  is  to  dominate.  In 
practical  life,  as  in  science,  one  must  be  governed  by  Ideas.  There 
is  no  real  art  except  as  there  is  a  corresponding  science;  and  as 
science  is  only  the  knowledge  of  pure  Ideas,  it  is  always  in  the  end 
dialectic  to  which  one  must  return.  Politics  and  morals  are  closely 
allied ;  the  same  principle  governs  both.  The  city  is  a  collective 
being  analogous  to  the  individual,  but  more  complex  and  greater. 
These  two  kinds  of  beings  have  the  same  needs  and  are  subject  to 
the  same  laws.  The  human  soul  is  like  a  chariot  drawn  by  two 
horses  and  directed  by  a  driver.^  The  driver  is  reason  (vous),  who 
sees  the  route  and  directs  the  blind  impulses  of  the  horses  (6v/x6s  and 
iTndvixLo),  that  is,  the  noble  and  the  base  i)assious.  The  city,  like 
the  individual,  needs  government,  nourishment,  and  defence.  To 
these  three  needs  correspond  respectively,  intelligence,  the  lower 
passions  of  lin6vfjit.a,  and  the  noble  passions  of  6v^6<;.  The  whole 
art  of  politics  and  morals  consists  in  establishing  in  this  complex 
organism  the  harmonious  unity  that  results  from  a  proper  hierarchy 
of  the  different  elements,  so  that  each  does  what  it  is  fitted  to  do 
(ra  avTov  TrpdrTeiv),  without  us\u'piug  the  functions  of  the  others.     It 

1  Pha'drus,  p.  2-Hj  B. 


326  Ghreek  Literature 

is  this  judicious  harmony  which  really  constitutes  justice  in  the 
state  and  in  the  individual.     How  can  it  be  made  dominant  ? 

In  the  perfect  republic,  the  three  essential  functions  will  be 
assigned  to  three  distinct  classes :  the  workmen,  including  artisans^ 
laborers,  and  merchants,  who  are  to  see  to  the  material  welfare  of 
the  state ;  the  guardians,  who  are  to  defend  it ;  and  the  magistrates, 
who  are  to  govern.  Guardians  and  magistrates  are  appointed  by 
careful  selection  and  prepared  by  special  education  for  their  func- 
tions. There  is  no  distinction,  in  this  respect,  between  sexes ;  men 
and  women  have  the  same  aptitudes  and  can  perform  the  same 
functions,  if  their  preparation  be  identical.  The  objection  due  to 
personal  and  family  interests,  which  might  destroy  the  unity  of  the 
state,  Plato  avoids  by  suppressing,  in  the  two  upper  classes,  who 
alone  have  part  in  government,  first  their  personal  interests,  by 
means  of  common  property  rights,  and  then  their  family  interests, 
by  means  of  a  community  of  women  and  children.  The  children 
belong  to  no  family  and  are  brought  up  by  the  state  for  the  state. 
The  throng  of  warriors  needs  only  true  opinions.  A  serious  music, 
which  shall  accustom  the  soul  to  rhythm,  and  a  moderate  gymnastic 
exercise,  which  shall  make  the  body  supple  and  well  disciplined, 
constitute  all  that  they  need.  Science  is  reserved  for  the  future 
magistrates,  who  are  to  be  philosophers.  Music  and  mathematics 
will  gradually  free  them  from  illusions  of  sense.  Dialectic  will  give 
them  access  to  the  realm  of  Ideas.  Homer  and  the  poets,  the  imita- 
tors of  sensible  reality,  who  have  only  false  and  impious  ideas  about 
the  gods,  are  to  be  banished  from  the  republic.^ 

In  the  individual  as  in  the  city,  each  of  the  component  elements 
must  have  its  proper  functions  and  be  iiuide  to  perform  them.  This 
is  the  object  of  personal  morals.  The  virtuous  soul  is  that  in  which 
reason  commands  and  the  passions  obey.  It  is  prudent,  courageous, 
temperate;  and  the  equilibrium  of  these  virtues  results  in  justice. 
It  is  happy  as  well  as  just.  Happiness,  in  the  eyes  of  Plato  and 
Socrates,  is  the  natural  aim  of  life ;  but  it  cannot  be  attained  with- 
out virtue.  The  vicious  soul,  though  possessing  all  sensible  goods, 
is  sick  and  thoroughly  unhappy  ;  it  can  return  to  ha})piness  only  by 
being  hs'iled,  and  this  is  the  work  of  expiation.  The  criminal  is  a 
fool.  If  he  does  not  make  expiation  voluntarily  during  life,  he  shall 
be  forced  to  do  so  after  death. 

AH  these  views  are  profound,  ingenious,  often  sublime,  sometimes 

]);u'a(loxical,  and  show  a  magnificent  consistency.     That  there  are  in 

tliis  bold  fabrication  purely  verbal  excesses  of  reasoning  and  abuses 

of  dialectic  that  compromise  its  solidity,  we  need  neitlier  deny  nor 

1  liCp.  X,  particularly  pp.  000  ff. 


Attic  Philosophy  327 

demonstrate  in  detail.  Yet  it  remains  true  that  his  philosophy  can 
enchant  both  the  heart  and  the  reason.  To  admire  and  enjoy  the 
philosophy  of  Plato,  it  is  not  necessary  to  accept  literally  the  theory 
of  the  Ideas.  It  is  enough  to  believe,  with  Plato,  that  the  realm  of 
sensation  is  inferior,  and  that  the  glance  of  the  soul  must  be  directed 
higher.  There  is  Platonism  in  all  who  love  the  ideal,  pure  reason, 
duty,  good  morals,  more  than  selfishness  and  pleasure ;  and  who 
mingle  a  dreamy  element  with  their  ideal. 

9.  The  Art  of  Dialogue  in  Plato.  —  Plato  had  at  his  service  as  a 
philosopher  the  genius  of  a  writer  who  had  no  need  to  fear  compari- 
son; and  so  his  dialogues  were  finished  works  of  art.  Yet  one  must 
not  fall  into  confusion ;  if  one  expects  never  to  find  in  them  any- 
thing but  easy  and  perfectly  agreeable  reading,  one  will  be  deceived. 
He  does  not  aim  essentially  to  please :  he  aims  to  instruct.  Every 
time  that  dialectic  seems  necessary  for  reaching  his  goal,  he  uses  it 
with  all  the  rigor,  all  the  minutiae,  all  the  baldness,  which,  however 
repulsive  to  the  uninitiated,  the  form  of  discussion  demands.  Cer- 
tain dialogues,  such  as  the  Parmenides  or  the  Philehus,  are  of  contin- 
uous subtlety,  and  discourage  the  ordinary  reader.  Others,  on  the 
contrary,  like  the  Protagoras,  are  charming  and  easy  to  read,  because 
dialectic  has  little  place  in  them.  In  most  of  them  there  are,  indeed, 
difficult  passages  side  by  side  with  others  that  are  easy.  But  it  re- 
mains true  that,  almost  in  spite  of  Plato,  art  has  everywhere  as  much 
place  as  science  in  his  works,  and  certain  pages  of  the  dialogues  are 
among  the  most  beautiful  that  have  ever  been  written.  He  seeks 
before  all  else,  by  way  of  method  rather  than  art,  to  imitate  the  dia- 
lectic conversation  of  Socrates,  the  investigation  of  truth  by  ques- 
tions and  answers.  But  as  he  is  a  clever  artist,  the  conversation, 
although  purely  methodical  in  principle,  becomes  animated  and  real- 
istic. It  is  not  in  vain  that  he  has  read  Homer,  Pindar,  Sophocles, 
Aristophanes,  and  the  mimes  of  Sopliron;  nor  yet  that  lie  is  Plato. 
As  his  ])]iilosophy  is  an  original  synthesis  of  the  earlier  philosophies, 
so  his  art  summarizes  and  unites  all  the  riches  of  Greek  art.  Dia- 
lectic, under  the  enchantment  of  his  hand,  becomes  dramatic  and 
often  lyric;  comedy  enters  in,  much  surjjvised  to  find  itself  philo- 
sophic, moral,  religious.  The  dialogue  as  he  used  it  is  a  new  literary 
type,  Avhatever  the  writings  of  his  predecessors,  Alexamenes  of  Teos 
and  Zeno  of  Elea,  may  have  been.  From  the  day  when  he  wrote  his 
first  works,  a  new  form  of  literary  beauty  was  revealed. 

10.  The  Personages  and  the  Characters.  — Generally,  in  the  philo- 
sophic or  literary  dialogues  of  all  time,  the  interlocutors  lack  life. 
They  are  abstract  ideas,  theses  oj)posed  to  each  other,  instead  of  men 
at  strife.     In  I'lato,  the  personages  are  both  numerous  and  true  to 


328  Greek  Literature 

life.  He  shows  us  a  new  phase  of  life  at  Athens,  and  one  of  the 
most  amusing,  that  of  the  disputers,  those  philosophic  prattlers 
who  are  never  quiet:  first  Socrates,  who,  from  morning  till  night, 
never  leaves  the  gymnasium,  the  promenades,  the  agora,  the  rendez- 
vous where  he  is  sure  to  find  interlocutors;  then  sophists,  whose 
business  it  is  to  be  constantly  engaged  in  disputation ;  and  finally 
young  men,  eager  for  novelties;  with  others  who  come  by  chance  — 
a  rhapsodist,  a  statesman,  a  priest  —  Greeks,  one  and  all,  all  ready 
to  talk.  The  active  and  interesting  little  world  is  portrayed  with 
striking  truth. 

Among  his  adversaries,  Ave  have  not  only  Protagoras,  Gorgias, 
Prodicus,  and  Hippias,  with  their  theories,  revealed  by  Plato;  but 
the  individual  features  of  each  one,  the  shade  of  his  character,  his 
language,  all  emphasized  by  the  external  aspect  of  the  personage. 
The  Protagoras  is  admirable  in  this  respect.  The  great  professors 
of  discourse  are  brought  together  in  the  house  of  Callias.  Protago- 
ras, king  of  the  sophists,  is  surrounded  by  a  retinue  of  respectful 
disciples,  while  he  himself  paces  up  and  down  the  courtyard ;  Hip- 
pias of  Elis  sits  on  a  lofty  seat,  surrounded  by  his  disciples,  who  sit 
on  lower  benches.  Prodicus  of  Ceos,  delicate,  shivering,  half  reclin- 
ing in  the  little  chamber  prepared  for  him,  speaks  with  a  loud, 
bass  voice,  dominating  the  conversations  for  a  long  distance  away. 
When  the  discussion  begins,  each  one  brings  to  it  his  characteristic 
processes,  —  Protagoras,  his  pretty  narratives  and  easy  eloquence; 
Prodicus,  his  subtle  distinctions ;  and  Hippias,  his  sonorous,  hollow 
periods.  There  is  the  same  truthfulness  in  the  Gorgias,  where  the 
three  portraits  of  Gorgias,  Polus,  and  Callicles  are  clearly  distinct. 
Gorgias  is  a  fine  speaker,  and  despite  his  theoretic  scepticism,  he 
adheres  to  convention  without  pursuing  his  theories  to  their  legiti- 
mate results.  Polus,  a  younger  man,  is  bolder,  and  above  all  more 
imprudent;  but  it  is  the  boldness  of  the  school,  so  to  speak,  the 
reeling  of  dialectic,  which  recoils  before  unexpected  ap])lications. 
Callicles  is  a  practical  politician,  and  disdainful,  at  bottom,  of  phi- 
loso{)hy,  which  he  considers  good  enough  for  young  men.  Bold,  cyni- 
cal, witty,  not  in  the  least  pedantic,  a  sort  of  Alcibiades  or  Critias, 
he  draws  conclusions  that  make  his  masters  hesitate:  he  represents 
the  active  generation  educated  in  sophistry.  One  might  prolong  the 
list  indefinitely:  there  is  not  a  sophist  in  the  dialogues  who  is  not 
original  and  true  to  life.  They  are  all  amusing,  not  merely  affable. 
All  might  say,  with  the  Alceste  of  Moliere :  — 

'•  Cood  Heavens  I    Gentlemen,  1  did  not  mean  to  be  the  cause  of  so 
much  mirth.  .  .   .'' 


Attic  Philosophy  329 

and  this  is  the  very  reason  why  they  are  amusing.  Plato's  personages, 
like  those  of  Moliere,  like  the  "  Bon  Pere  "  of  Pascal's  Provinciales, 
are  naively  what  they  are.  They  think  themselves  very  strong ;  they 
represent  false  knowledge,  self-satisfied,  ignorant  of  its  ignorance. 
They  betray  themselves  in  attempting  to  show  their  worth  ;  and  when 
they  perceive  that  they  have  been  the  tools  of  their  adversary,  their 
chagrin  adds  to  their  drollery.  Yet  the  comedy  is  not  overdone.  Their 
ideas  and  arguments  are  not  weakened  by  a  malevolent  enemy.  Plato 
plays  an  open  game,  like  Pascal,  who  makes  the  "  Bon  Pere  "  cite  the 
very  texts  of  the  Jesuit  doctors;  like  Moliere,  who  puts  into  the  mouth 
of  Oronte  a  sonnet  that  wins,  at  first,  the  applause  of  the  audience. 
One  might  applaud  the  language  which  Plato  attributes  to  Gorgias,  to 
Protagoras,  and  even  to  Prodicus  and  Lysias.  The  discourses  are  not 
unreasonable,  but  things  which  the  Athenians  applauded  every  day. 
Like  the  adversaries,  the  friends  are  varied,  too,  and  vividly 
portrayed.  Not  to  enumerate  them  all,  it  is  easy  to  group  them 
around  three  or  four  types  that  summarize  or  represent  them. 
There  is  first  what  we  might  call  the  type  "  Phaidrus  "  :  the  young 
Athenian,  sometimes  almost  an  ephehns,  pretty  as  an  Olympian, 
insatiable  in  curiosity,  fond  of  discourse,  somewhat  ashamed  of  his 
passions,  and  timid  before  Socrates,  ready  to  blush,  usually  rich  and 
of  good  family,  seeking  only  disinterested  culture.  Hippocrates  in 
the  Protagoras,  Lysis,  Charmides,  and  others  belong  to  this  family. 
The  type  "  Ph«do"  consists  of  intimate  disciples,  devoted  even  more 
to  the  good  sense  of  Socrates  than  to  his  philosophy,  men  who  have 
had  a  moral  conversion,  almost  an  action  of  grace,  who  live  very 
near  the  heart  of  their  master,  faithful  to  his  interests  even  in  the 
hour  of  death.  Such  are,  besides  Phado  :  Apollodorus,  who  sobs 
violently  when  his  master  drinks  the  hemlock ;  the  affectionate 
Chaerephon ;  Simmias  and  Cebes,  so  sensible,  so  ready  in  sympathy, 
with  a  sincere,  unflagging  zeal  for  the  truth  ;  and  Crito,  an  old  friend  of 
childhood,  who  advises  Socrates  to  escape  from  prison.  Alcibiades, 
who  is  vividly  portrayed  in  the  Symposium,  is  unlike  any  other.  In 
the  centre  of  the  various  groups  appears  Socrates,  a  charming 
master  —  now  the  true  Socrates,  real  and  historic,  with  the  figure 
of  Silenus,  characterized  by  penetrating  irony,  a  firm  spirit,  and  an 
active  conscience;  now  Socrates  idealized  and  transfigured,  attracted 
and  carried  away  in  the  boldest  ni(>taphysical  discussions.  It  is 
still  Socrates,  and  it  is  not.  Sometimes  he  is  even  disguised  under 
other  names:  he  calls  himself  Diotiiuus  or  Parmenides.  He  might 
call  himself  Plato;  for  it  is  really  the  disciple,  this  time,  that  we 
hear  speaking.  Plato,  unlike  Aristotle  and  Cicero,  never  ])resents 
himself   in  his   dialogues.      He   has   chosen    rather   to   mingle    his 


330  Greek  Literature 

features  with  those  of  Socrates,  leaving  the  reader  the  trouble  and 
the  pleasure  of  distinguishing  the  two. 

11.  His  Style.  —  To  the  variety  of  personages  corresponds  the 
variety  of  the  style.  Plato  is  a  dramatic  poet;  like  Sophocles  and 
Menander,  he  makes  each  character  speak  the  language  most  suitable 
for  its  role. 

Sometimes  he  pushes  the  imitation  to  the  extent  of  exact  copy. 
His  imitations  of  the  style  of  Gorgias^  and  Lysias^  are  celebrated. 
We  have  already  noticed  those  of  Prodicus  and  Hippias  in  the 
Protagoras.  That  of  Protagoras  is  perhaps  even  more  striking, 
because  more  delicate,  the  oratorical  manner  of  the  great  sophist 
being  less  marked  than  that  of  the  others.  But  these  copies  are  only 
works  of  fancy,  and  do  not  really  constitute  the  author's  style. 
That  appears  in  its  true  character  only  in  the  parts  of  the  dialogue 
where  he  does  not  aim  to  imitate  too  directly  such  and  such  a 
mannerism  of  his  adversaries. 

When  he  writes  in  his  own  way,  his  style  is  a  marvel  of  perfec- 
tion, yet  owes  nothing  to  sophistic  rhetoric,  which  aimed  to  excite  the 
mind  by  vehemence  of  passions,  to  master  it  by  specious,  imperious 
reasoning,  and  to  charm  it  by  the  sonority  of  words  and  sen- 
tences. Plato  loved  to  have  soul  speak  freely  to  soul,  in  a  conversa- 
tion made  iip  of  dialectic,  as  subtle  and  slow  as  should  be  necessary 
to  define  the  Idea,  and  of  occasional  poetic  divination.  Dialectic 
needed  to  assume  every  tone  from  the  most  familiar  to  the  most  sub- 
lime ;  for  if  it  rose  to  the  supreme  Idea  of  Good,  it  began  as  readily 
with  the  most  trivial  object  of  reality.  It  lived  in  reason  and  imagi- 
nation ;  it  excluded  all  violent  or  base  passion.  Plato  speaks  about 
things  of  eternity,  seriously,  simply,  with  a  freedom  of  movement 
that  passes  from  familiarity  to  enthusiasm.  He  soars  like  a  great 
artist  through  all  the  regions  of  thought,  with  a  steady,  sure  progress, 
with  an  undulating,  easy  movement,  with  a  calm,  intellectual  seren- 
ity, that  goes,  without  haste  or  difficulty,  higher  and  higher  toward 
the  brilliance  of  the  Idea. 

His  vocabulary  is  substantially  the  purest  Attic,  as  one  might  ex- 
pect. But  it  is  not  free  from  admixture  ;  an  element  of  poetic  lan- 
guage is  occasionally  introduced.  Yet  there  is  no  technical  jargon, 
despite  the  novelty  and  difficulty  of  the  subjects.  Even  the  word  to 
denote  the  Ideas  (elSos  or  iSio)  is  taken  from  current  speech  and  not 
much  altered  from  its  usual  meaning.  It  is  well  known  how  much 
this  purity  of  taste  was  altered  later  in  the  language  of  philosophers. 
The  musical,  homogeneous  periods  of  Isocrates,  the  powerful,  striking 
phrases  of  Demosthenes,  would  be  ill  adapted  to  this  lightly  flowing 
1  The  speech  of  Agatho  in  the  Symposium,  p.  l'.)4  E  ff.      ^  lu  ii^q  Phoedrus. 


Attic  Philosophy  331 

conversation.  Plato's  sentences  are  much  diversified  in  form,  now- 
short,  now  long,  always  free  and  always  flexible.  They  do  not  fear 
the  slight  mistakes  in  spoken  language  called  by  the  grammarians 
anacolutha.  Even  when  enthusiasm  exalts  and  organizes  them  into 
long  periods,  their  rhythm  savors  in  no  way  of  oratorical  artifice. 
One  thinks  rather  of  the  magnificent,  tranquil  lyric  poems  of  Pindar 
than  of  the  passionate  fire  of  Demosthenes.  Plato  is  graceful  even 
in  treating  the  sublime ;  but  his  grace  is  Attic,  free  from  the  naive 
awkwardness  and  roughness  of  Herodotus.  It  is  the  grace  of  a 
young  athlete,  ready  for  all  the  struggles  of  the  palcestra. 

Many  passages,  whether  in  familiar  conversation  or  in  narrative, 
are  of  extreme  simplicity.  The  commonest  words  suffice.  He  men- 
tions the  humbler  trades  by  name,  disregardful  of  false  dignity. 
The  sentences  are  short,  easy,  lucid,  mingled  with  proverbs,  lighted 
with  smiles,  always  fine  and  polished,  like  Attic  conversation. 
Other  passages  are  more  ornate  and  of  a  more  sustained  tone  and  in- 
spiration. Such  are  the  charming  poetic  myths,  the  fine  descriptions, 
and  the  more  or  less  lengthy  moral  disquisitions.  The  style,  though 
still  simple,  has  a  reflection  of  poesy  due  to  the  thought  rather  than 
the  words.  The  tone  is  serious  and  smiling  by  turns.  Citations  from 
Homer,  Pindar,  Simonides,  Euripides,  and  the  comic  poets  are  found 
side  by  side  with  conversation,  coloring  it  and  giving  it  relief. 
The  description  of  the  landscape  at  the  beginning  of  the  Phmdms, 
and  the  comparison  of  poetic  inspiration  with  a  lodestone  in  the  Ion 
are  justly  celebrated  examples  of  this  semi-poetic  manner.  The 
Apology,  almost  as  a  whole,  furnishes  specimens  of  equal  beauty,  and 
that  in  serious  discussion,  tempered  with  ironical  finesse  and  good 
nature.  Other  passages,  in  the  loftiness  of  their  metaphysical  or 
moral  thought,  are  the  product  of  a  still  higher  inspiration.  Such  are 
particularly  those  in  which  Plato  depicts  his  vision  of  the  supreme 
Idea,  the  beauty  of  the  supra-sensible  world.  AVhen  he  speaks  of 
such  matters,  the  author  in  him  becomes  an  inspired  writer  and  the 
dialectician  a  poet.  Yet  this  very  emotion  is  serene  and  sober. 
It  expresses  rather  the  delight  of  admiring  contemplation  than  the 
vehemence  of  terrestrial  passion.  The  style  is  still  simple.  The 
rhythm  of  the  language  is  ample  and  pleasing.  The  sentences, 
whether  short  or  not,  pass  easily  along  with  an  ample  movement  which 
carries  them  at  a  single  sweep  far  toward  the  truth.  It  might  be 
thought  of  as  the  stately  flight  of  sacred  birds  mounting  without 
haste  to  heaven.  The  eulogy  of  philosophic  life  in  the  Tftewtetus,^ 
the  pages  of  the  Republic  that  deal  with  the  supreme  Idea,^  the  end 
of  the  discourse  of  Diotimus  in  the  Symposium,^  are  admirable  exam- 
1  Themetus,  p.  173  C  ff.  2  ji^p,^  p.  508  ff.  8  Symp.,  p.  211  C  ff. 


332  Greek  Literature 

pies  of  this  type  of  beauty.     Notwithstanding  the  shortcomings  of 
every  translation,  let  us  present  this  last  passage :  — 

"0  my  dear  Socrates,"  continued  the  stranger  of  Mantiniea, 
"  that  which  can  give  value  to  this  life  is  the  sight  of  the  eternal 
beauty.  As  compared  with  such  a  vision,  what  are  gold  and  ornaments 
and  the  beauty  of  youth?  The  sight  of  these  excites  you  to-day, 
and  their  contemplation  and  enjoyment  so  charm  you  and  others  that 
you  would  consent,  if  it  were  possible,  to  forego  meat  and  drink,  if  you 
might  continually  behold  them  and  be  in  their  presence.  Yes,  I  ask, 
how  intense  would  be  the  delight  of  a  mortal  who  should  be  per- 
mitted to  see  face  to  face,  in  its  incomparable  image,  the  divine 
beauty  ?  Think  you  that  he  would  complain  of  his  lot,  who,  getting 
a  glimpse  of  such  an  object,  might  give  himself  over  to  its  contempla- 
tion and  enjoyment  ?  And  is  it  not  in  contemplating  eternal  beauty 
with  the  eye  of  reason,  which  alone  can  behold  it,  that  he  can 
fashion  and  produce,  not  merely  images  of  virtue  —  since  it  is  not  to 
images  that  he  devotes  himself  —  but  real,  veritable  virtues?  For 
it  is  reality  that  he  loves.  To  him  who  produces  and  nourishes  real 
virtue  it  is  given  to  be  cherished  of  God.  To  him,  more  than  to  any 
other  mortal,  is  it  given  to  be  immortal." 

12.  The  Invention  of  the  Dialogues.  —  There  is  nothing  more  supple 
or  complex  than  the  invention  of  a  dialogue  of  Plato;  nothing 
more  organic,  beneath  the  capricious  variations  of  the  arabesques 
which  at  first  present  themselves.  The  body  of  the  dialogue  is  made 
up  of  dialectical  discussion,  and  this  is  generally  inclosed  between  a 
prologue  and  a  conclusion,  and  broken  by  apparent  digressions  and 
episodic  myths. 

The  prologues  give  the  place  where  the  action  occurs,  with  the 
personages  and  setting  of  the  discussion.  Plato  does  not  always 
describe  the  place.  In  the  Gorgias  —  that  finished  work  of  art  — 
such  a  description  is  wanting.  On  the  contrary,  in  the  Phaednis,  the 
Protagoras,  the  Symposium,  and  many  other  dialogues,  the  scenery 
is  painted  with  extreme  elegance.  In  fact,  it  is  wonderfully  suited 
to  the  action  that  is  to  be  portrayed.  The  banks  of  the  Ilissus,  with 
the  plane  tree,  the  grove  of  the  nymphs,  and  the  chirping  of  grass- 
hoppers, form  an  enviable  setting  for  the  vivid,  spirited  conversar 
tion  about  love,  just  as  the  noisy  house  of  Callias  is  the  natural 
centre  of  the  realm  of  sophistry,  and  as  the  banqueting  hall  of  the 
Siimposium  seems  to  call  in  advance  for  the  follies  of  Aristophanes, 
the  fantasy  of  Pausanias,  and  the  semi-intoxication  of  Alcibiades. 
AVith  or  without  scenery,  Plato  gives  us,  at  the  first,  his  i)ersonages. 
They  are  always  chosen  with  an  unerring  instinct  of  propriety, 
which  enables  him  to  see  without  fail  what  intellectual  or  moral 
chararter  in  the  interlocutor  of  Socrates  will  best  suit  the  nature  of 
the  questions  proposed.     Then,  even  before  the  principal  discussion, 


Attic  Philosophy  333 

it  often  happens  that  preliminary  discussions  take  place,  forming 
almost  a  supplement  to  the  dialogue  proper.  Whither  would  Plato 
lead  us  ?  Has  he  forgotten  his  design  ?  Nay,  he  is  leading  us 
toward  the  goal  insensibly,  while  directing  our  thought  to  allied  sub- 
jects, which  may  put  us  in  good  humor  beforehand  to  enjoy  fully, 
and  understand  better,  the  main  subject. 

J  Then  the  principal  discussion  begins.  Here  again  all  is  complex. 
Its  elements  are  varied:  first,  dialectic  proper,  with  its  questions 
and  answers  as  Socrates  employed  it,  its  sinuous  progress,  its  appar- 
ent hesitations  and  backward  turns,  its  inductions  and  deductions. 
Then  come  the  processes  of  the  opposition,  logical  discourses,  myths, 
and  commentaries  on  the  poets.  Finally,  even  in  Socrates  we  find 
something  that  is  not  pure  dialectic,  but  rather  re  very,  fancy,  poetic 
divination.  This  also  is  expressed  in  myths  or  conversations,  and 
is  interlaced  and  connected  with  infinite  dexterity. 

The  conclusion  is  likewise  presented  under  very  diverse  forms. 
Sometimes  the  conversation  ends  in  a  definition  accepted  by  both 
interlocutors.  It  may  happen  that  the  discussion  closes  with  a  nega- 
tive solution  and  the  real  solution  of  the  problem  is  postponed  to 
another  dialogue.  The  conclusion  may  be  in  the  form  of  a  myth,  or 
a  poetic  hypothesis,  that  adds  plausibility  to  a  dialectic  solution 
thought  to  be  insufficient. 

Amid  these  complex  elements,  it  is  not  always  easy  to  compre- 
hend the  unity  of  a  Platonic  dialogue  —  its  real  literar}^  or  philo- 
sophical purport.  More  than  one  commentator  has  gone  ridiculously 
astray  in  certain  cases,  both  in  ancient  and  in  modern  times.  The 
task  requires  shrewdness  and  literary  tact :  the  work  of  the  Graces 
is  not  measurable  by  rule  and  compass.  Let  us  avoid,  in  any  case, 
attributing  incoherence  to  Plato,  when,  beyond  doubt,  whatever  fault 
there  is  belongs  to  us  alone. 

13.  Plato's  Atticism.  —  Montaigne  had  little  relish  for  this  fluctu- 
ating, sinuous  art,  which  he  esteemed  rather  tedious.  He  censured 
"those  long,  empty,  preparatory  interlocutions,"  Herein  he  showed 
himself  a  disciple  of  Roman,  rather  than  of  Attic,  taste ;  lie  spoke  as 
a  disciple  of  Seneca.  His  reproach,  however,  is  not  wholly  without 
foundation.  Dialectic,  like  the  scholasti<;ism  of  the  ^liddle  Ages, 
has  its  unattractive  features  even  in  Pluto.  J^ut,  on  the  whole, 
Plato's  work  is  a  marvel  of  Atticism.  His  pliilosoi)hic  system  itself, 
independent  of  the  dress,  is  truly  Attic,  with  its  elegant  clearness  of 
outline  and  its  combination  of  grace  and  sublimity ;  while  the  dress 
shows  all  the  merits  of  the  system  in  analogous  ways.  Never  has 
philosophy,  that  "sacred  music  of  thinking  minds,"  as  Renan  calls 
it,  spoken  a  more  musical  or  a  sublimer  language.     The  delightful 


334  Greek  Literature 

speakers  of  the  dialogues  seem  to  move  in  a  purer  atmosphere  than 
ours,  a  philosophic  ether  where  the  heaviness  and  roughness  of  our 
thought  is  luiknown,  where  language  is  pure  harmony. 

Plato's  part  in  the  history  of  thought  and  art  in  Greece  can 
scarcely  be  compared  to  any  but  that  of  Homer.  The  Homeric 
epic,  unconscious  interpreter  of  popular  thought,  had  deified  the 
instinctive  life  of  the  people  by  a  process  analogous  to  anthro- 
pomorphism. By  regular  evolution  all  Greek  civilization  was 
developed  from  that  life.  In  the  fifth  century  the  antique  structure 
!t>egan  threatening  to  fall.  Plato,  after  Socrates,  undertook  to  build 
a  dwelling  for  Greek  thought;  and,  though  he  could  not  have  fore- 
seen it,  the  dwelling,  still  thoroughly  Attic  in  its  architectural  ele- 
ments, was  to  become  the  residence  of  thought  not  yet  conceived  of, 
that  of  part  of  the  thought  of  the  future  world.  By  his  preference 
for  practical  and  social  morals  and  his  instinct  for  beauty,  he  showed 
himself  really  Athenian.  But  by  his  transcendent  idealism  and  his 
aspiration  for  the  absolute  and  supra-sensible,  he  prepared  the  way 
early  for  Christianity.  We  must,  of  course,  not  confound  his  lofty 
intellectuality  with  the  religion  of  the  heart,  that  of  charity  and 
submissive,  humble  faith.  And  yet  certain  words  in  both  systems 
sound  alike ;  and  one  can  see  how  he  was  able  at  times  to  produce, 
from  a  distance,  almost  the  impression  of  a  Christian  Father.  We 
must  admit,  at  least,  if  we  mean  to  be  true  and  exact,  that  this 
Greek,  Athenian,  incomparable  artist,  certainly  is,  as  has  been  so 
well  said,  one  of  the  founders  of  the  "City  of  God."^ 

14.  The  Academy  after  Plato. — The  disciples  of  Plato  held  their 
reunions  in  his  house  even  after  his  death.  It  was  situated  in  the 
gardens  of  Academus.  We  have  seen  that  it  became  the  property  of 
his  nephew  Speusippus,  who  bequeathed  it  in  turn  to  his  successors. 
The  "  Academy  "  was  an  organized  school,  which  chose  its  head  or 
"scholarch."  Speusippus  was  the  first,  then  came  Xenocrates, 
Polenio,  and  Crates.  They  were  masters  of  the  '*  Old  Academy  "  as 
opposed  to  the  "Middle"  and  the  "New  Academy"  which  we  shall 
meet  in  another  chapter.  Neither  in  the  history  of  philosophy  nor 
in  that  of  literature  does  the  Old  Academy  hold  a  considerable  place. 
As  philosophers,  the  successors  of  Plato  followed  his  inspiration, 
though  gradually  abandoning  certain  parts  of  his  doctrine  and  mak- 
ing loans  from  the  neighboring  s(;hools,  particularly  that  of  Aristotle. 
As  writers,  they  show  more  elegance  than  genius.  Their  works, 
however,  have  almost  wholly  perished.^     Speusippus  was  the  pupil 

^  E.  Havet,  Orifjines  du  Christianisvie,  vol.  I,  p.  20. 

■^  ("f.  MuUacli,  Frufjm.  Phil.  Grcec.  Ill;  Meiueke,  Fragm.  Com,  Or<zc. ;  and 
Kock,  Fraym.  Com.  Atticorum. 


Attic  Philosophy  335 

of  Isocrates  before  being  the  pupil  of  Plato.  He  wrote  chiefly  dia- 
logues. Some  few  fragments  give  us  the  impression  of  a  rather 
graceful  facility.  He  replaced  the  Platonic  definition  by  descrip- 
tion, and  substituted  for  the  Ideas,  which  were  infinite  in  number, 
the  ten  fundamental  ideas  of  Pythagoras,  which  are  only  categories 
(finite  and  infinite,  equal  and  unequal,  etc.).  Xenocrates  no  longer 
wrote  dialogues,  but  composed  treatises  after  the  fashion  of  Aris- 
totle, and  poems.  The  influence  of  Pythagoras  is  manifest  in  his 
fragments,  which  are,  moreover,  very  short.  Polemo  and  Crates,  of 
whom  we  cannot  say  that  they  wrote  anything,  seem  to  have  beei 
chiefly  preachers  of  morals.  Such  is  also  the  character  of  Grantor, 
the  pupil  of  Polemo,  who  composed  numerous  writings  in  prose  and 
verse.  His  treatise  On  Mouiiiing  (Ilepi  TrevOovs)  was  a  sort  of  conso- 
lation or  exhortation  which  became  very  celebrated  ;  axireolus  et  ad 
verhum  edisceiidus  libellus,^  said  Cicero.  Horace  cites  Crantor  by  the 
side  of  the  Stoic  Chrysippus,  as  a  recognized  master  in  morals.  His 
fragments  show,  like  those  of  Speusippus,  ingenious  combination  of 
the  rhetoric  of  Isocrates  with  the  philosophy  of  Plato.  It  is  all,  in- 
deed, rather  tame.  The  real  successor  of  Plato,  his  only  rival,  was 
an  independent  disciple  who  was  perhaps  even  somewhat  heretical, 
namely,  Aristotle. 

15.  Aristotle:  his  Life;  Immensity  of  his  Work. ^  —  Aristotle  was 
born  in  38-4  at  Stagira,  a  colony  of  Andres  and  Chalcis,  situated  on 
the  coast  of  Macedon.  His  father,  Nicomachus,  was  physician  to 
Amyntas  II  of  Macedon.     In  367,  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  Aristotle 

1  ["  A  golden  book,  to  be  learned  by  heart."  — Tr.] 

■■^  Bibliography  :  Complete  editions  ;  The  Berlin  Academy  (Bekker,  Bran- 
dts, V.  Hose,  Bonitz);  5  vols.,  1831-1870;  the  Didot  edition  (Diibiier.  Biisse- 
maker,  Ileitz),  Paris,  1848-1874.  The  principal  works  are  in  the  Teubner  Col- 
lection (Politics  and  Ethics,  by  Susemihl  ;  Rhetoric,  by  Homer:  Poetics,  by 
Christ,  etc.)  ;  Poetics,  by  Vahlen,  M  ed.,  Leipsic.  1885;  by  Ilatzfeld  and  Du- 
four,  Paris,  18S)9  ;  De  Anima,  with  Frencii  translation  by  Kodier.  2  vols.,  Paris, 
1900,  with  a  scholarly  commentary  ;  Constitution  of  Athens,  first  ])ublished,  from 
the  papyrus,  by  Kenyon,  London,  1801  ;  later  editions  by  Kaibel  and  Wilamo- 
witz-Miillendorf,  Berlin,  1801  ;  and  by  F.  Bla.ss,  Teubner,  1802  ;  by  Van  Her- 
werden  and  Leeuwen,  Lyons,  1891  ;  and  by  Sandys,  London,  1893.  The  Ethics, 
text  ed..  by  By  water,  Oxford,  1800.  The  Politics,  edited  by  Newman,  with 
essays,  4  vols.,  Oxford,  1002. 

French  translation  of  the  complete  works  by  Barth^lemy-St.-Hilaire,  Paris, 
1837-18t)2,  except  the  Constitution  of  Athens,  which  is  translated  by  Th.  Ueinach, 
Paris.  1801  ;  and  by  Haussoulier,  liibl.  de  V Ecole.  des  Hautes  Etudes,  fasc.  991. 
English  translation  of  the  Politics,  with  introductions,  etc.,  by  Jowett.  2  vols., 
Oxford,  1885  ;  of  the  Poetics  in  Butcher,  Aristotle^s  'Fhenry  of  Poetnj  and  Fine 
Art,  London,  1805  ;  edition  with  translation  by  Butcher,  London,  180S  ;  Consti- 
tution of  Athens,  translated  by  Poste,  London,  1801;  lihetoric.  translated  by 
Welldon,  London,  1886;  Ethics,  by  Welldon,  London,  1802;  by  Robert  Will- 
iams, London,  1809  ;  and  by  Hatch,  London,  1879  ;  On  the  Parts  of  Animals, 
Ogle,  London,  1882. 

Consult :  Aristotle,  by  George  Grote,  2  vols.,  London,  1872  ;  Aristotle,  by 
Davidson,  New  York,  Scribuers,  1890. 


336  Gi^eek  Literature 

came  to  Athens  to  complete  his  education.  From  his  father  he  had 
inherited  an  independent  fortune.  He  doubtless  followed  tirst  the 
instruction  of  Isocrates.  Plato  was  then  in  Sicily,  and  did  not 
return  till  365.  As  soon  as  he  returned,  Aristotle  became  attached 
to  hira,  and  Avas  his  disciple  for  eighteen  years,  till  Plato's  death  in 
347.  Notwithstanding  the  independence  of  his  thought,  his  admira- 
tion for  his  master  was  keen  and  even  fervent.  He  spoke  concern- 
ing the  deceased  philosopher,  in  an  elegy  of  which  we  have  a  few 
verses,  with  a  warmth  of  sentiment  amounting  to  enthusiasm ;  and 
several  passages  of  his  writings  express,  despite  the  difference  of 
their  theories,  the  fidelity  of  his  attachment  to  the  man  and  the  con- 
stancy of  his  admiration  for  the  thinker.  There  is  a  well-known 
saying,  often  cited  under  this  form,  ^^  Amicus  Plato,  sed  magis  arnica 
Veritas."^  It  is  a  translation  from  a  phrase  in  the  Nicomachf.pan 
Ethics.-  Plato,  it  is  said,  called  him  the  ''  reader  "  (dmyvojcrTj/s)  and 
*•  mind  "  (vov?) ;  the  two  words  well  indicate  his  penetrating,  studious 
activity. 

From  347  to  342  the  life  of  Aristotle  was  spent  partly  in  a  resi- 
dence with  his  friend  Hermias,  tyrant  of  Atarneus,  to  whose  memory 
he  dedicated  a  famous  scolion,  and  partly  in  various  travels. 

In  342  Philip  remembered  the  son  of  Xicomachus,  the  former 
physician  of  his  father,  and  intrusted  to  him  the  education  of  Alex- 
ander, then  fourteen  years  of  age.  Aristotle  remained  in  Macedon 
till  the  departure  of  Alexander  for  Asia  in  335.  The  fondness  of 
Alexander  for  Homer,  and  his  eagerness  to  learn  science,  are  the  well- 
known  fruits  of  Aristotle's  education.  For  ten  years  Aristotle  en- 
joyed this  royal  friendship,  and  it  brought  him  valuable  assistance 
in  prosecuting  his  scientific  researches,  such  as  rare  animals  and 
considerable  sums  of  money.  The  relation  was  broken  off  in  325  b} 
the  murder  of  Callisthenes,  Aristotle's  nephew.  After  the  year  335 
Ari.stotle  made  his  residence  for  thirteen  years  in  Athens.  It  was 
there  that  he  founded  his  school — the  ''Peripatetic,"  or  the 
"Lyceum,"'  named  after  the  promenades  (TrcptTraroi)  of  the  Lyceum, 
where  he  was  accustomed  to  join  his  disciples. 

After  the  death  of  Alexander,  Aristotle  was  obliged  to  quit 
Athens,  for  a  violent  reaction  against  Macedon  had  put  his  life  in 
jeo})ardy  there.  Threatened  with  an  accusation  of  impiety,  he  re- 
tired to  Chalcis  in  323,  where  lie  died  of  disease  the  year  after.  The 
same  year  saw  the  death  of  his  contemporary,  ])emosthenes,  wlio 
likewise  was  born  in  3S4.  Tlie  two  lives,  though  so  different  in 
iiiruiy  ways,  continued  parallel  with  each  other  to  the  very  end. 

Aristotle  published  a  large  number  of  works,  and  left  a  large 
1  [•■  A  friend  i.s  Plato,  but  the  Truth  is  more."'  — Tr.]  2  ^Vtc.  Eth.  I,  4. 


Attic  Philosophy  337 

number  of  unpublished  writings,  which  became  the  property  of  his 
disciple,  Theophrastus,  and  were  not  published  till  much  later. 
Strabo  ^  tells  us  that  these  papers  of  Theophrastus  became  the  prop- 
erty of  Neleus  of  Scepsis,  then  were  neglected  by  the  latter's  heirs, 
and  bought,  in  the  second  century,  by  Apellicon  of  Teos,  who  had 
them  copied  and  deposited  at  Athens.  Sulla,  after  the  capture  of 
Athens  in  78,  sent  them  to  Rome,  where  the  gi'ammarian  Tyrannio, 
and  afterward  the  philosopher  Androuicus  of  Rhodes,  published 
them.  The  works  which  Aristotle  published  in  his  lifetime  were 
not  of  the  same  sort  as  the  others.  The  others  were  esoteric  or 
acroamatic  —  reserved  entirely  for  disciples,  who  attended  the  lec- 
tures {aKpoafxara)  of  the  master.  Those  published  in  his  lifetime 
included  works  of  various  sorts  which  were  not  entirely  philosophic. 
There  were  poems  and  discourses  ;  numerous  works  of  erudition ; 
and  finally  dialogues,  of  which  philosophy  was  the  subject,  but  in 
which  the  master's  teaching  was  presented  to  the  public  in  an  exo- 
teric or  popular  form,  without  having  all  the  rigor  of  treatment 
necessary  for  true  science. 

We  cannot  enumerate  here  all  the  works  extant  in  antiquity 
under  his  name.  Diogenes  Laertius  fixes  the  number  not  far  from 
four  hundred,  without  including,  he  says,  a  multitude  of  apocryphal 
writings  and  apothegms.  Nor  can  we  cite  all  that  we  still  possess 
or  of  which  we  have  fragments.  The  works  that  are  almost  intact 
number  forty-seven,  and  a  hundred  others  are  more  or  less  well 
known  from  fragments.  AVe  must  be  content  with  a  glance  over 
the  body  of  this  production.  Its  character  cannot  be  well  under- 
stood unless  one  considers  it  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  author's 
philosophical  principles.  The  first  thing  necessary,  then,  is  to  sum- 
marize that  philosophy. 

16.  Principles  of  Aristotle's  Philosophy.  —  Like  Mato,  Aristotle 
makes  science  consist  in  a  knowledge  of  the  essence  (oi'crta)  of 
things.  Like  Plato,  too,  he  thinks  that  this  essence  must  be  sought 
in  the  general  idea  which  binds  similar  things  together ;  there  is 
no  science  of  the  particular,  but  only  of  the  general.  ]?ut  whereas 
Plato  gave  to  the  Idea  a  real  existence  distinct  from  that  of  things, 
Aristotle  believed  that  the  idea  exists  only  in  and  through  the 
things  themselves,  and  can  be  discovered  only  in  the  real  world. 
Again,  whereas  Plato  subordinates  all  the  Ideas  to  the  Supreme 
Idea  of  Good  and  is  gradually  absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of 
this  essence,  Aristotle  believes  in  the  independence  of  the  essences, 
and  does  not  reduce  them  all  to  one  unique  ])rinciple.  They  must 
be  studied  in  and  for  themselves  —  not  for  the  sake  of  the  Idea  of 
1  Strabo,  XIII,  54 ;  cf.  Plut.,  Sulla,  2G. 


338  Greek  Literature 

Good,  but  to  understand  their  specific  differences.  To  know  a  thing 
is  to  discern  its  first  elements,  its  principles,  and  its  causes.  The 
principles  of  a  thing  are  its  essence,  its  quantity,  its  quality,  and  its 
different  relations  with  other  objects.  These  are  so  many  predi- 
cates or  categories,  which  he  enumerates.  He  makes  them  ten  in 
number.  But  true  knowledge  is  knowledge  of  the  essence  —  that 
is,  of  what  causes  an  object  to  be  itself  and  not  some  other.  The 
essence  of  an  object  can  be  analyzed  into  four  elements  which  deter- 
mine it  and  are  its  causes :  (1)  the  matter  {vXrj)  of  which  it  is  com- 
posed ;  (2)  the  form  (eiSos)  which  the  matter  has  taken ;  (3)  the  force 
{to  Kivovv)  which  has  wrought  the  transformation ;  and  (4)  the  end 
(to  tcXo?)  realized  thereby.  It  is  the  concurrence  of  the  four  causes 
which  makes  matter  pass  from  potentiality  to  realization.  Hence, 
it  is  their  concurrence  which  one  must  know  to  possess  the  total 
knowledge  of  the  object.  But  for  this  dialectic  will  not  suffice. 
Dialectic,  starting  with  the  assent  of  the  interlocutor,  does  not  go 
back  to  real  principles ;  it  accepts  opinions  in  their  stead  and  it  can 
produce  only  a  probable  certitude.  It  has  its  worth  as  mental  gym- 
nastics, and  is  even  useful  in  subjects  which  spring  from  opinion 
rather  than  from  science  proper.  But  true  science,  which  is  com- 
plete and  firm,  cannot  be  content  with  this.  Scientific  definition, 
which  summarizes  the  essence  of  a  thing,  and  demonstration,  which 
deduces  from  the  definition  its  consequences,  must  be  based  on  a 
complete  and  a  methodical  observation  of  the  facts  themselves,  and 
of  all  the  facts. 

Since  fact  is  the  basis  of  all  science,  Aristotle  seeks  it  in  all 
sources  of  information.  He  observes,  he  listens ;  he  is  prodigiously 
erudite,  an  indefatigable  collector  of  facts  of  every  sort.  Physics, 
politics,  morals,  literature  —  all  are  material  for  science.  By  virtue 
of  these  very  principles,  his  science  must  be  encyclopaedic. 

On  such  a  foundation  of  fact  he  builds  theories.  He  seeks  to 
determine  from  his  observations  the  nature  of  all  that  exists.  He 
constructs  a  physics,  or  theory  of  the  conditions  of  sensible  being ; 
a  theory  of  the  heavens;  one  of  plants;  one  of  animals;  one  of  the 
soul ;  one  of  the  gods ;  one  of  politics  and  morals ;  and  one  each  of 
rhetoric,  poetics,  logic,  and  dialectic. 

17.  General  View  of  his  Works.  Summary  Classification.  —  Hence 
the  immense  number  and  infinite  diversity  of  his  works,  which  bear 
upon  all  parts  of  his  system.  Aside  from  the  poems,  discourses, 
and  Letters,  which  are  not  philosophic,  we  have  three  groups  of 
writings,  essentially  different,  yet  all  embraced  by  his  vast  concep- 
tion of  science  :  (1)  the  dialogues,  in  which,  using  a  Platonic  method, 
he  expounds  according  to  his  own  doctrines,  if  not  the  well-founded 


Attic  Philosophy  339 

truth  that  he  aspires  to  constitute,  at  least  plausibility  regarding  the 
philosophic  subjects  that  interest  most  men ;  (2)  works  of  erudition, 
designed  to  collect  the  materials  of  his  theoretic  speculation ; 
(3)  treatises  (Trpay/Aarcuu),  in  which  he  constructs  real  science  for 
himself  and  his  disciples. 

Of  the  dialogues,  we  have  only  fragments,  though  some  of  them 
are  fairly  long.  We  know  the  titles  of  fourteen.  The  principal  ones 
were  a  dialogue  On  Philosophy,  in  three  books,  a  sort  of  Aristotelian 
Timcens  ;  the  Eudemus,  on  the  soul,  like  the  Phmdo  ;  the  dialogue 
On  Justice  — "  in  four  large  books,"  says  Cicero ;  the  dialogue  On 
Nobility,  of  which  we  have  a  few  excellent  pages ;  the  Nerinthus,  so 
named  from  a  Corinthian  laborer  who,  having  read  the  Gorgias, 
became  a  philosopher ;  the  Gryllus,  which  got  its  title  from  the  son 
of  Xenophon,  and  was  devoted  to  rhetoric ;  and  the  dialogue  On  the 
Poets,  in  three  books. 

Of  the  works  of  erudition,  only  one  is  extant  to-day  as  a  whole, 
the  recently  discovered  treatise  on  the  Constitution  of  Athejis^  which. 
is  on  "Egyptian  papyrus,  and  has  two  parts  T  first  the  history  of  the 
political  transformation  of  Athens  ;  then  an  account  of  contemporary 
institutions.  The  latter  is  much  mutilated,  but  the  former  is  almost 
intact.  It  contains,  in  a  neat,  pleasing  summary,  the  description  of 
a  phase  of  Athenian  history  much  neglected  by  the  ordinary  histo- 
rians, who  were  interested  more  in  battles  than  in  institutions.  The 
treatise  was  often  mentioned  by  the  ancients.  It  was  part  of  a 
collection  of  analogous  treatises,  a  real  'Mibrary,"  in  which  Aristotle 
studied  the  constitutions  of  one  hundred  and  fifty-eight  Greek  and 
barbarian  cities.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  such  a  collection,  while 
necessitating  immense  research  on  the  part  of  one  man,  calls  for 
the  collaboration  of  numerous  others.  We  cannot  regard  Aristotle 
as  having  done  the  whole  of  this  work  alone.  In  this  group  of  works 
of  erudition,  let  us  note  yet  the  Pythic  Victors  ;  the  Didascalia,  real 
'•Annals  of  the  Theatre,"  giving  the  list  of  representations  at 
Athens  from  the  beginning,  with  the  titles  of  the  plays,  the  names 
of  authors  and  choregi,  the  awards  of  prizes,  etc. ;  the  collection  of 
Oratorical  Treatises,  in  which  Aristotle  condensed  the  substance  of 
earlier  rhetorical  works  so  neatly  that,  according  to  Cicero,  no  one  read 
them  any  more  except  in  his  summary.  Other  productions  of  the 
same  kind  were  attributed  to  Aristotle,  such  as  the  Ilovxeric  Questions, 
the  ProhJems,  and  the  Peplos  (a  collection  of  various  mythological 
facts,  so  named  from  the  embroidery  covering  the  veil  of  Athene). 
It  is  probable  that  the  original  idea  of  these  works  goes  back  to 
Aristotle,  yet  certain  that  the  collection  became  more  and  more 
numerous  and  gradually  lost  its  authenticity. 


340  Greek  Literature 

The  acroaraatic  works  form  to-day  almost  all  that  is  preserved  of 
his  writings.  They  have  been  rescued  from  oblivion  by  the  respect 
which  so  many  centuries  have  paid  to  the  philosophic  thought  of  their 
author,  and  have  lived  on  through  the  ages,  notwithstanding  the  very 
imperfect  form  that  in  many  cases  they  received;  for  it  must  be 
repeated  that  these  works  were  not  published  by  Aristotle.  Accord- 
ing to  all  appearances,  they  were  not  designed  for  immediate  publi- 
cation. They  were  private  notes,  notes  of  courses,  more  or  less 
revised,  sometimes  existing  in  nearly  finished  form,  but  sometimes, 
too,  more  imperfect,  with  lacunae,  repetitions,  obscurities  of  every 
sort,  which  must  have  imposed  on  their  first  editors  an  extremely 
delicate  task.  There  is  no  doubt  that,  if  the  stamp  of  Aristotle  has 
left  its  impress  everywhere  on  the  form  and  the  substance,  yet  there 
are  also  alterations  of  every  sort,  such  as  must  have  resulted  from 
the  circumstances  of  their  publication.  Lacunae  were  arbitrarily 
filled;  dittography  and  amalgamations  of  passages  belonging  to 
distinct  works  are  found,  not  to  speak  of  petty  faults  in  copying, 
and  the  later  introduction  of  apocryphal  treatises.  Notwithstand- 
ing these  shortcomings,  the  collection  is  solid  and  imposing.  Not 
to  enumerate  all  the  writings  that  compose  this,  it  will  suffice  to 
mention  the  chief  ones.  Among  works  relative  to  the  "  contempla- 
tive "  or  "  theoretical "  part  of  science,  we  have  Metaphysics,  Physics, 
Psychology,  Natural  History,  the  Generation  of  Animals,  etc. ;  then 
come  others  relative  to  the  "practical  "  part  of  science — the  Politics, 
the  Xicomachcean  Ethics,  the  Organoii  (a  group  of  writings  on  Logic, 
the  tool  of  all  research,  subdivided  into  the  Categories,  On  Expression, 
Analytics,  and  Topics),  the  Refutation  of  the  Sophists,  the  Rhetoric, 
and  the  Poetics. 

18.  Some  Theories  of  Aristotle.  —  We  need  not  set  forth  in  detail 
Aristotle's  views  on  the  physical  universe  and  on  natural  history. 
As  a  scholar,  he  need  not  be  considered  in  the  history  of  letters. 
Suffice  it  to  establish,  first,  his  immense  knowledge,  though  it  was 
faulty,  owing  to  many  errors  then  inevitable ;  next,  the  power  of 
philosophic  insight  with  which  he  spoke,  illuminating  tlie  chaos 
of  facts  with  the  light  of  systematic  explanations.  His  attempt  to 
classify  facts  is  admirable  and  often  happy.  His  effort  to  explain 
them  by  the  four  fundamental  causes  is  an  immense  task,  in  which 
he  displays  a  subtle  ingenuity.  This,  it  must  be  confessed,  is  gener- 
ally in  vain,  because  the  problem  was  not  accurately  stated,  and  in- 
deed could  scarcely  be  so  stated  then.  In  his  time  an  admirable 
physicist  and  naturalist,  though  necessarily  incomplete  and  adventu- 
rous, lie  is  to-day  a  great  master  in  the  domain  of  science  and  of 
strictly  humanitarian  speculation.      We  shall  not  discuss  his  logic. 


Attic  Philosophy  341 

though  it  was  almost  perfect,  because  it  is  too  technical  for  a  his- 
tory of  literature.  It  is  only  of  the  metaphysician,  the  politician, 
the  moralist,  the  literary  theorist,  that  we  must  speak. 

There  is  soul,  according  to  Aristotle,  in  all  that  lives,  in  every 
being  that  feeds,  grows,  and  perishes  by  virtue  of  having  force  of  its 
jown.  Man,  the  animals,  even  the  plants,  have  a  soul,  since  they 
have  an  internal  principle  of  life  and  growth.  But,  just  as  there 
are  many  sorts  of  living  beings,  so  there  are  many  sorts  of  souls. 
_Plants  have  only  a  nutritive  soul ;  animals  have  a  sensitive  soul ; 
man  alone  has  a  reasoning  soul.  The  soul,  inasmuch  as  it  is  the 
"  form  "  of  that  "  matter  "  called  the  body,  is  inseparable  from  it  and 
cannot,  therefore,  survive  it.  But  there  is  something  in  the  reason- 
ing soul  of  man  which  goes  beyond  the  individual,  coming  to  him 
from  outside.  It  is  truly  divine.  It  is  pure  reason,  the  Novs. 
This  divine  guest  devotes  itself  to  man  during  life ;  and  when  the 
body  is  dissolved  with  the  soul  proper,  it  returns  to  the  universal 
Reason,  which  is  God,  and  in  which  it  is  absorbed.  a 

God  has  a  real  existence.  He  is  the  necessary  principle  of  all 
things,  the  end  which  alone  can  explain  all.  He  did  not  create 
matter  or  movement,  which  are  eternal ;  but  He  is  the  Prime  Mover, 
Himself  immovable,  without  whom  no  movement  is  intelligible. 
He  is  the  supreme  end  toward  which  all  tends  and  proceeds.  Move- 
ment and  life  in  all  nature  are  nothing  else  than  an  immense  mo- 
mentum of  love,  conscious  or  unconscious,  toward  perfection;  that 
is,  toward  God,  pure  thought,  thought  realized,  substantial,  living 
thought.  This  metaphysical  conception  is  certainly  one  of  the  most 
majestic,  and,  despite  the  severity  of  its  expressions,  one  of  the 
most  poetic,  promulgated  in  the  history  of  human  thinking. 

Aristotle,  like  Plato,  closely  connects  politics  and  morals;  poli- 
tics, for  him,  includes  and  dominates  all  the  practical  sciences  as  the 
city  envelops  and  dominates  all  the  individuals.  For  the  sake  of 
greater  clearness,  however,  he  studies  separately  the  duties  of  the 
individual  and  the  laws  that  govern  the  body  politic. 

We  shall  give  the  main  outline  of  the  plan  of  the  Nicomaduv.nn 
Ethics.  The  end  of  all  being,  by  general  consent,  is  happiness,  l^'it"*^ 
it  is  found,  above  all,  in  the  weal  of  the  soul,  particularly^in  virtue,  (^ 
or  moral  and  intellectual  perfection.  IMoral  virtue  is  not  innate, 
nor  is  it,  as  Plato  believed,  a  direct  result  of  knowledge.  It  is  a 
habit  of  the  soul,  acquired  by  free  will,  which  makes  it  easier  to 
practise  morality.  It  consists  essentially  in  a  reasonable  equilibrium 
between  too  little  and  too  much;  virtue  lies  in  the  "golden  mean." 
Courage  is  halfway  between  cowardice  and  recklessness.  Toothing 
in  excess  (firjSkv  ayav)  was  the  dictum  of  popular  wisdom.     Aristotle 


x^^ 


342  Gh^eek  Literature 

repeated  this  in  turn.  He  analyzed  successively  free  action,  the 
different  moral  virtues,  the  intellectual  virtues,  and  the  absolute  — 
or  incorrigible  —  vices ;  and  studied  man  in  associations  of  friend- 
ship with  his  fellows.  The  work  closed  with  an  admirable  final 
book,  in  which  he  considered  the  relative  values  of  the  different  sorts 
of  happiness.  He  found  the  most  perfect  happiness  in  the  activity 
of  the  divine  element  of  the  soul,  Reason.  The  lucid  breadth  of  his 
theory  is  evident,  as  it  gathers  from  popular  consciousness  as  well  as 
from  the  books  of  sages  various  scattered  truths,  and,  uniting  them 
all  into  a  thoroughly  organic  system,  finishes  and  crowns  the  whole 
with  a  contemplative  theory  that  summarizes  both  his  metaphysics 
and  his  moral  ideal. 

\  His  "state"  is  not,  like  that  of  Plato,  a  military  convent  gov- 
erned by  philosophers,  but  a  moderate  republic,  the  elements  of 
which  are  taken  from  the  real  world  by  a  man  acquainted  with  all 
existing  state  governments ;  and  are  so  combined  as  to  avoid  extremes. 
The  theory  of  a  golden  mean  rules  in  politics  as  well  as  in  morals. 

ar  from  excluding  the  family,  as  Plato  does,  he  sees  in  it  the  nec- 
essary germ  of  the  city.  With  his  usual  method  of  seeking  knowledge 
of  perfect  being  along  the  lines  of  the  evolution  that  has  pro- 
duced it,  he  begins  by  studying  the  family  as  a  rudimentary  politi- 
cal organism.  He  finds  in  it  the  germ  of  every  species  of  political 
power.  He  finds  even  slavery,  and  admits  it,  in  so  far  as  it  rests 
upon  averred  inequality  of  nature  between  master  and  slave.  After 
the  study  of  the  family,  he  passes  to  a  criticism  of  the  theories  of 
his  predecessors.  In  the  last  five  books  of  his  Politics  he  expounds 
his  personal  theories,  and  scatters  broadcast,  bn-eWFy^subj  ect,  the 
profoundest  and  most  original  observations.  He  is  no  narrow,  cate- 
gorical dogmatist.  His  wide  information  showed  him  that  the  dif- 
ferent forms  of  government  are  not  good  or  bad  a  priori;  royalty, 
aristocracy,  democracy,  may  be  equally  good  relatively  to  certain 
social  conditions.  If  he  has  any  personal  preference,  it  is  for  mod- 
erate, or  mixed,  governments,  as  they  seem  to  him  most  in  conform- 
ity with  the  notion  of  the  golden  mean.  P>ut  he  absolutely  condemns 
only  the  corrupt  forms  of  royalty,  aristocracy,  and  democracy, 
namely,  tyranny,  oligarchy,  and  demagogy,  or  oxXoKparia,  since  in 
them  unreasonable  passions  predominate.  His  theory  of  revolutions 
shows  as  much  political  and  psychological  insight  as  knowledge  of 
facts.  His  tlieory  of  education  is  likewise  excellent.  The  aim  is  to 
make  the  child  above  all  a  good  citizen,  an  intelligent,  virtuous  man. 
Among  the  things  which  he  is  taught,  some  are  of  immediate  jn-ac- 
tical  utility  —  reading,  writing,  drawing,  gymnastics ;  some,  like 
music,  or  in  certain  respects  gymnastics,  have  for  their  object  the 


Attic  Philosophy  343 

perfection  of  soi;l  and  body,  and  are  no  less  necessary  than  the 
others.  Education  being  indispensable  for  the  good  of  the  state, 
the  state  is  to  give  and  supervise  it. 

In -rhetoric  his  great  discovery  is  that  he  clearly  determined  the 
aim  of  oratorical  art  and  deduced  the  nature  of  its  essential  elements. 
Rhetoric  is  an  appendix  of  dialectic ;  neither  of  them  aims  to  give 
knowledge  of  a  particular  order  of  facts.  They  consist  in  right  rea- 
soning on  every  subject :  dialectic,  with  great  rigor ;  rhetoric,  in  a 
more  popular,  less  strict  manner.  The  true  object  of  rhetoric,  then, 
is  not,  as  the  orators  believed,  to  catalogue  the  divisions  aiid  sub- 
divisions of  discourse,  or  make  a  collection  of  exordiums^  but  to 
study  the  theories  of  oratorical  demonstration^  Such  is  the  task 
which  he  proposed  for  himself.  He  analyzed  successively  the  ideas 
of  the  useful,  the  beautiful,  and  the  just,  on  Avhich  are  essentially 
based  political  eloquence,  declamation,  and  judicial  eloquence.  He 
reviewed  the  various  commonplaces  (TOTrot)  useful  in  each  type  of 
oratory.  He  showed  how  the  orator  could  increase  the  force  of  his 
argument  by  the  authority  of  his  character  or  by  his  manner,  by  a 
knowledge  of  the  passions  of  his  audience,  and  by  cleverness  in 
managing  them.  Then  comes  a  series  of  analys.cs  of  the  principal 
passions,  examined  each  by  itself,  then  in  its  relation  with  the  dif- 
ferent ages  and  conditions  of  human  life.  The  analyses  are  of 
striking  precision,  and  some,  for  example  the  description  of  the  three 
ages,  are  particularly  celebrated,  owing  to  numerous  imitations  made 
of  them.  The  work  has  a  third  book,  originally  separate,  it  seems, 
but  authentic  beyond  doubt.  This  is  devoted  to  style  (Aeft?),  then 
to  invention  (ra^ts).  The  twelve  chapters  on  style  are  certainly 
the  most  profound  and  precise  now  in  existence  on  the  history  of 
Greek  oratorical  style  and  some  of  its  essential  characteristics. 

The  Poetics  is  no  less  celebrated  than  the  Rhetoric,  and  has  exer- 
cised perhaps  a  greater  influence.  Unfortunately,  it  is  not  so  well 
preserved.  The  work  was  originally  in  two  books.  The  second, 
treating  of  comedy,  is  lost.  The  first  alone  remains,  and  it  is  in  a 
much  disordered  condition.  The  Poetics,  as  we  have  it,  is  composed 
of  twenty-six  chapters,  including :  (1)  a  general  introduction  on 
poetry,  —  its  different  types,  its  psychological  origin,  and  its  historical 
beginnings  (chap.  T-V) ;  (2)  a  mutilated  part  on  the  theory  of 
tragedy  (oliap.  VI-XXll) ;  (3)  some  fragments  of  a  theory  of  epic 
poetry  (chap.  XXIII-XXIV);  (4)  miscellaneous  questions  (chap. 
XXV) ;  and  (."))  a  comparison  between  e])ic  poetry  and  tragedy 
(chap.  XXVI).  The  interminable  and  fastidious  dogmatic  discus- 
sions of  modern  times  upon  the  ''rules"  of  Aristotle  distort  the 
system  set  forth  in  his  work.      In  reality,  the  author  is  (juite  unlike 


344  Greek  Literature 

either  the  Abb^  d'Aubignac  or  a  college  pedant.  He  is  a  profound 
and  powerful  intelligence,  analyzing  poetry,  as  he  analyzes  all  other 
facts  and  things,  with  precision,  rigor,  and  extraordinary  knowledge 
of  their  historical  development.  Poetry  for  Aristotle,  as  for  Plato,  is 
an  imitation ;  yet  a  free  one,  able  to  represent  things  as  more  beautiful 
or  less  beautiful  than  they  really  are  ^  —  an  imitation  which  idealizes 
objects  and  is,  therefore,  more  "  serious  and  philosophical "  than  his- 
tory.'' Thus  poetry  is  vindicated  against  the  reproaches  of  Plato, 
who  scorned  it  as  being  the  mere  image  of  an  empty  image.  There 
are  as  many  different  poetic  types  as  there  are  ways  of  imitating. 
Poetic  and  musical  imitation  is  slowly  transformed  and  perfected,  like 
all  else  that  lives.  -Tragedy  is  the  highest  and  most  complete  form 
of  poetry.  Then  comes  the  definition  of  tragedy.  It  is  profound, 
full  of  meaning,  so  incisive  in  the  analysis  of  its  object  that  it  almost 
goes  beyond  Greek  tragedy  to  express  the  essence  of  the  drama  of 
the  future  and  of  all  time.  The  whole  theory  of  tragedy  springs  out 
of  this  definition.  Actfon  is  the  essential  thing,  the  rest  is  second- 
ary. We  shall  not  analyze  the  artistic  system  advocated  in  the 
Poetics,  which  has  been  rendered  familiar  to  all  by  the  discussions 
of  modern  rhetoric.  But  let  us  note  a  characteristic  detail.  The 
famous  theory  of  the  three  unities  is  said  to  come  from  Aristotle ; 
but  the  only  one  of  which  he  expressly  states  a  theory  is  that  of 
action.  On  the  unity  of  place,  he  says  never  a  word.  On  the  unity 
of  time,  he  speaks  only  incidentally,  as  of  something  usual  and 
almost  normal,  owing  to  the  difference  between  tragedy  and  epic 
poetry.  This  seems  to  be  the  true  character  of  his  teaching  as  com- 
pared with  the  dogmatism  of  modern  French  classics.  Aristotle 
notes  a  fact  as  being  frequent  and  worthy  of  attention.  Scaliger 
and  Boileau  exalt  it  into  a  law,  which  they  publish  as  coming  from 
Sinai. 

19.  Aristotle  as  a  Writer.  Conclusion.  —  The  works  of  Aristotle 
belong  to  categories  so  different  that,  if  one  seeks  to  appreciate  him 
as  a  writer,  it  is  necessary  to  distinguish  between  the  poet,  the 
author  of  dialogues,  the  writer  of  works  of  erudition,  and  the  deliverer 
of  the  unfinished,  though  often  admirable,  notes  found  in  his  acroa- 
matic  works. 

Of  the  poet  we  shall  say  only  a  word.  The  author  of  the  Fes- 
tive Hymn  to  Ilermias  (popularly  called  the  Hymn  to  Virtue)  was 
certainly  not  a  Pindar,  yet  more  than  a  mere  versifier.  His  spirit  was 
lofty  and  fully  imbued  with  the  substance  of  the  great  lyric  works. 

The  dialogues  were  highly  praised  by  the  ancients.  Dionysius 
of  Halicarnassus  commends  their  style  for  its  elegance,  clearness, 
1  Poet.  2.  2  pgpt.  9. 


Attic  Philosophy  346 

and  fojce.^  Cicero  speaks  with  admiration  of  the  "golden  stream" 
of  Aristotle's  eloquence,  which  tears  away  and  uproots  the  argu- 
ments of  his  adversaries.*  Quintilian  eulogizes  his  fulness  and 
sweetness.^  A  few  fragments  allow  us,  if  not  to  judge  from  thor- 
ough knowledge,  at  least  to  explain  in  part  this  admiration.  Aris- 
totle perhaps  never  showed  himself  the  equal  of  Plato.  He  appeared 
to  be  rather  the  diligent  pupil  of  Isocrates  than  the  poetic  genius  of 
the  Phcedrus  or  the  Symposium.  These  were  the  works  of  a  Greek 
Cicero,  a  solider  man,  however,  and  a  more  substantial  thinker, 
though  probably  less  polished  and  witty.  Aristotle  tried  to  suit 
the  discourses  of  his  personages  to  their  character,  we  are  told. 
Therein  he  was  dramatic,  yet  certainly  much  less  so  than  Plato, 
in  whom  all  is  true  to  life.  At  the  head  of  each  book  of  the  dia- 
logues, Aristotle,  like  his  Latin  imitator,  Cicero,  loved  to  appear  oa 
the  scene  himself  to  expound  his  views.'' 

Among  the  works  of  erudition,  many  were  evidently  not  literary. 
In  the  Didascalia,  for  example,  one  could  scarcely  ask  more  than  the 
merit  of  clearness.  But  this  was  sufficient  to  make  his  erudition 
agreeable.  The  clearness  of  his  Collection  of  Rhetorical  Treatises 
had  put  the  originals  in  oblivion.  It  is  the  kind  of  merit  chiefly 
foimd  ill  the  treatise  on  the  Constitution  of  Athens.  Here  the  style 
is  purposely  bare  and  bald,  but  lucidly  clear,  sometimes  graceful, 
yet  never  with  affectation.  All  this  art,  in  short,  by  its  justice, 
good  taste,  and  perfect  adaptation  to  the  subject  treated,  is  that 
of  a  good  writer,  if  not  that  of  a  great  artist. 

Can  one  speak  of  an  art  of  composition  and  style  in  the  acroa- 
matic  works  ?  \Yhat  is  to  be  said  of  the  composition  of  a  work 
made  up  perhaps  of  bits  and  pieces  ?  What  of  style  in  writings 
that  are  mere  sketches,  composed  for  the  author's  personal  use,  and 
then  altered  by  editors  ?  We  cannot  speak,  perhaps,  of  their  inven- 
tion, as  it  no  longer  appears  with  clearness  in  the  majority  of  the 
treatises ;  but  the  case  is  not  the  same  with  reference  to  the  style. 
Pascal  is  manifest  even  in  the  fragments  of  the  Pens^es  reviewed 
and  published  at  Port  Royal.  Aristotle,  as  a  writer,  is  no  Pascal ; 
yet  he  has  vigorous  originality  and  an  indelible  personal  stamp. 
The  style  of  the  treatises  is  the  oldest  spetumen  of  a  strictly  scien- 
tific style  in  Greece.  It  has,  of  course,  literary  defects  as  well  as 
merits.  The  literary  defect,  but  scientific  merit,  is  that  of  being 
technical.  He  has  a  peculiar  terminology,  but  it  is  precise.  His 
language  abounds  in  new  terms,  often  barbarous  in  appearance,  but 

1  Critique  on  the  Ancient  Writers,  4,  1. 

'  Acad.  Prior.  II.  28. 

s  Inst.  Or.  X,  1.  8-3. 

*  Ad  Att.  IV,  10,  and  XIII,  19  ;  Ad  Q.  F.  Ill,  5. 


346  Greek  Literature 

constant  and  well-defined  in  meaning,  that  correspond  to  the  domi- 
nant ideas  of  his  philosophy.  Aside  from  the  technical  terms,  he 
uses  with  extreme  exactitude  the  words  of  the  ordinary  language. 
He  cares  little  about  the  delicacies  and  graces  of  Atticism,  to  which 
he  is  a  stranger  by  birth.  But  he  is  a  good,  able  worker  in  that 
"  common  dialect "  (koiv^  StaXe/cros)  which  was  to  become  the  lan- 
guage of  all  men  of  culture.  Sometimes  he  invents  vivid  figures 
of  speech  and  happy  metaphors.  He  is  as  impassive  as  science  it- 
self, absolutely  lacking  sensibility ;  yet  he  always  abounds  in  the 
imagination  which  enables  scholars  to  conceive  things  aright.  Hia 
sentences,  like  his  vocabulary,  show  the  strong  vigor  of  his  mind. 
They  gire  often  brief  and  elliptical,  —  those  of  a  man  who  speaks  his 
thought  with  as  few  words  as  possible.  These  short  sentences  are 
put  together  as  it  may  happen.  They  are  not  really  obscure,  yet 
they  are  difficult.  Even  when  the  sentence  is  complex,  the  idea  is 
one  of  geometrical  clearness,  and  there  is  something  imperious  in  its 
turn.  Sometimes,  though  rarely,  this  objective,  impersonal  style  at- 
tains superior  beauty.  The  portrait  of  youth  in  the  Rhetoric  or  the 
eulogy  of  contemplative  life  in  the  Ethics  are  examples.  But  then 
the  thought  itself  calls  forth  in  the  mind  of  the  reader  the  emotions 
that  the  author  abstains  from  suggesting.  It  is  not  he,  but  his  sub- 
ject, that  is  eloquent.  Plato  or  Pascal  would  have  said  the  same 
things  differently  even  in  unfinished  notes.  On  the  whole,  in  the 
treatises,  as  in  the  dialogues,  we  recognize  always  the  same  Aris- 
totle, the  same  vigorous  writer,  capable  of  eloquence  when  he 
chooses,  yet  eloquent  not  by  nature,  but  rather  in  spite  of  his 
nature.     He  is  a  good  write r^  rather  than  a  literary  master. 

His  reaTgreatness  is  not  there,  but  in  the  prodlgtOiTs  part  he  has 
had  in  the  world's  thought.  Coming  at  the  very  close  of  the  period 
of  Greek  independence,  he  made  the  synthesis,  by  his  extraordinary 
erudition,  of  all  that  had  gone  before.  By  this  ei-udition,  he  opened 
the  way  for  the  period  of  scholarship  then  just  beginning.  In  the 
general  order  of  thought,  he  is  the  first  representative  of  a  funda- 
mental tendency  of  the  human  mind,  the  positive,  erudite  tendency, 
as  opposed  to  the  idealistic,  geometrical,  poetic  tendency  of  Plato. 
Then,  as  an  unwearying  classifier,  sure  of  himself,  imperious  in  his 
assertions,  full  of  confidence  in  the  power  of  intellect,  astonishingly 
rich  in  profound,  incisive  observations  of  all  sorts,  he  had  all  he 
needed  to  produce  an  effect  on  the  thought  of  thinking  men,  and 
more  justly  still  on  that  of  the  superstitious  ages,  who  made  him  the 
master  of  all  science.  His  contribution  to  human  progress  has  been 
without  a  parallel,  partly  owing  to  circumstances  ulterior  to  his  own 
merit.      These    belong   to   the    past;    but    his    intrinsic    merit    is, 


Attic  Fhiloso2)hy  347 

nevertheless,  one  of  the  greatestto  be  found  in  the  history  of  human 
thinking,     t" 

<iU.  "Tte  Lyceum  after  Aristotle  :  Theophrastus.  —  The  school  of 
Aristotle,  the  "  Lyceum,"  followed  with  zeal  the  path  of  studious  and 
erudite  research  inaugurated  by  the  philosopher.  Its  organization 
was  like  that  of  the  Academy.  It,  too,  had  its  scholarchs,  of  whom 
the  first  two  were  Theophrastus  and  Strato.  When  Theophrastus 
had  bequeathed  his  property  to  his  disciples,  the  material  needs  of 
the  Lyceum  were  as  well  provided  for  as  those  of  the  Academy. 
Besides  Theophrastus  and  Strato,  others,  such  as  Eudemus,  Demetrius 
of  Phaleron,  Dicsearchus,  Aristoxenus,  and  Heraclides  of  Pontus, 
were  chosen  to  succeed  them.  But  their  works  hardly  belong  to 
literature,  in  the  strict  sense,  or  even  to  philosophy  properly  speak- 
ing. The  Peripatetic  School  did  not  concern  itself  with  profound 
theories  ;  it  held  that  Aristotle  had  fixed  permanently  the  essential 
principles  of  metaphysical  speculation  and  method.  It  devoted  it- 
self, then,  to  researches  of  detail.  Eudemus  busied  himself  with 
the  history  of  doctrines.  Strato  was  particularly  a  physicist,  less 
interested  in  causes,  however,  than  in  facts  and  classes.  Dicaear- 
chus,  Aristoxenus,  and  Heraclides  of  Pontus  were  scholars  whom 
we  shall  meet  with  later.  Demetrius  of  Phaleron  won  a  reputation  as 
a  writer,  but  more  as  an  orator  than  as  a  philosopher.  The  only  great 
literary  name  is  that  of  Theophrastus,  the  immediate  successor  of 
Aristotle ;  and  he  is  rather  an  encyclopaedist  than  a  man  of  letters.^ 

He  was  born  at  Eresus  in  the  island  of  Lesbos  in  372.  He  died 
in  287,  at  the  age  of  eighty-five.  He  came  to  Athens  when  young,  and 
listened  first  to  Plato,  then  to  Aristotle,  becoming  the  latter's  favorite 
pupil.  Aristotle  is  said  to  have  named  him  Theophrastus  —  his  real 
name  being  Tyrtamus.  Aristotle  also  opposed  his  quickness  to  the 
slowness  of  Callisthenes,  and  repeated  with  reference  to  them  —  the 
legend  says  —  the  famous  apothegm  of  the  rein  and  the  spur,  which 
has  been  attributed  in  succession  to  so  many  different  personages. 
Theophrastus  became  really  an  Athenian,  notwithstanding  the  well- 
known  anecdote  of  the  woman  who,  selling  herbs,  recognized  him 
as  a  foreigner  by  his  accent.  He  passed  his  whole  life  at  Athens, 
except  a  brief  period  of  exile  in  the  reign  of  Demetrius  Poliorcetes, 
when  that  ruler  drove  out  the  philosophers. 

He  left  behind  many  writings.  Diogenes  Laertius  enumerates 
nearly  two  hundred   and   forty.      Though   most  of   them  are  lost, 

1  The  complete  works  of  Theophrastus,  with  the  exception  of  the  Chararters, 
are  edited  by  Wimmer,  Lelpsic,  Teubiier,  3  vols.,  18<)4-1881.  These  are  edited 
by  II.  C.  Jebb,  'Die  Characters  of  Theophrastus,  London.  1870.  The  most 
recent  edition  of  them  is  that  of  the  Leipsic  Thilological  Society,  Teubner,  1898. 
La  Bruyfere's  Caracteres  is  a  free  translation. 


348  Greek  Literature 

a  glance  shows  that,  like  Aristotle,  he  treated  every  domain  of 
science,  and  often  took  up  again  the  subjects  handled  by  his  master, 
to  make  the  study  more  thorough,  or  complete  it  along  analogous 
lines.  Thus,  by  the  side  of  the  collection  of  Constitutions  of 
Aristotle,  he  erected  a  monument  of  the  same  kind  on  the  study  of 
legislations,  by  his  great  work  On  Laws.  He  gave  much  time  to 
researches  in  the  history  of  doctrines:  his  Opinions  of  Physicists 
form  sixteen  books.  Besides  numerous  and  considerable  fragments, 
we  have  two  complete  works  of  his  :  the  History  of  Plants  (more  ex- 
actly Researches  concerning  Plants,  Ilepl  (f>vTC)v  laTopiai)  in  nine  books, 
and  the  Causes  of  Plants  (Uepl  <^uto>v  amwv)  in  six  books ;  also  a  cele- 
brated little  work,  the  Characters,  Avhose  purpose  it  is  difficult  to 
determine. 

The  History  of  Plants  is  essentially  a  descriptive  work.  As  the 
author  says  in  the  beginning,  he  aims  chiefly  to  set  forth  the  distinc- 
tions between  the  various  species.  The  facts  cited  are  multitudinous 
in  number.  Many  seem  to  be  the  result  of  his  own  observation  ;  yet 
most  of  them  come  from  reports  made  by  others.  His  application, 
if  not  always  his  critical  judgment,  his  effort  to  classify  the 
characteristics  of  plants  according  to  their  importance,  and  his  faith 
in  the  regularity  of  natural  laws,  are  praiseworthy.  The  exposition 
of  these  numerous  facts,  moreover,  is  pleasing  and  elegant.  The 
author  is  a  scholarly  naturalist  and  a  good  writer. 

The  treatise  on  the  Causes  of  Plants,  which  form  the  sequel  to  the 
preceding,  aims  to  explain,  by  means  of  the  four  "causes"  of  Aris- 
totle, all  the  "  distinctions '"  noted  in  the  preceding  work.  The 
task,  evidently,  was  more  difficult  than  that  of  merely  presenting 
positive  facts.  But  his  philosophical  essay  has  a  lasting  value,  de- 
spite the  arbitrariness  of  certain  explanations,  owing,  here  again,  to 
the  multitude  of  positive  facts  conscientiously  reported  and  clearly 
set  forth. 

The  Characters,  of  which  one  would  get  a  most  inexact  idea,  if 
one  thought  to  find  in  Theophrastus  a  Greek  La  Bruyere,  are  the 
work  of  a  scholar  rather  than  that  of  a  literary  author.  The  work,  in 
the  most  complete  manuscripts,  includes  thirty-one  "characters,"  pre- 
ceded by  a  ])reface.  Each  "  character  "  has  as  its  title  the  name  of 
a  moral  fault  —  very  rarely  that  of  a  merit.  This  is  defined  after 
tlie  manner  of  Aristotle  ;  then  follows  a  more  or  less  lengthy  descrip- 
tion of  the  external  signs  by  which  it  is  revealed.  The  style  is  clear, 
simple,  iniornamented,  and  serves  only  as  a  vesture  for  purely  scien- 
tific tliought.  If  there  is  occasional  wit  in  the  sketches,  it  creeps  in 
almost  in  spite  of  the  author,  because  the  subject  lends  itself  thereto. 
What  is  this  work,  and  what  was  the  design  of  its  author  ?     It  is 


Attic  Philosophy  349 

evident  at  once  that  the  text  is  much  altered  and  did  not  come  in  its 
present  form  from  his  hands.  Is  it  a  collection  of  notes  and  ma- 
terials left  vinfinished?  Is  it  an  extract  of  some  more  extensive 
work,  of  a  treatise  on  morals,  or  perhaps  on  comedy,  in  which  these 
descriptions  found  place,  like  the  analyses  of  the  passions  and  the 
ages  in  Aristotle's  Rhetoric  ?  There  are  difl&culties  in  the  way  of 
each  of  these  hypotheses,  and  the  problem  cannot  be  solved.  The 
moral  and  literary  interest  of  the  CJiaracters  is  beyond  doubt ;  for 
Theophrastus  is  a  shrewd  psychologist  and  a  careful  writer.  His 
field  of  observation  is  limited  to  general  defects,  such  as  falsity, 
pride,  coarseness,  and  foolishness.  He  does  not  make  individual 
portraits,  yet  he  brings  to  his  analyses  an  acute  discrimination.  In 
flattery,  in  pride,  in  coarseness,  he  makes  three  or  four  distinct  sub- 
species. The  subtlety  is  not  artificial,  but  is  based  on  observation  of 
real  shades  of  difference.  Unlike  Aristotle,  he  does  not  confine  him- 
self to  abstract  analysis,  but  proceeds  at  once  to  a  concrete,  pic- 
turesque description.  The  proud  man,  the  flatterer,  the  coarse  man 
—  not  pride,  flattery,  or  coarseness  —  are  what  he  has  in  mind  and 
describes.  He  puts  into  these  pictures  none  of  the  cultured  graces 
and  delicate  word-painting  of  La  Bruyere,  but  preserves  a  form  of 
composition  purposely  monotonous,  to  harmonize  with  scientific  de- 
scription. He  is  a  naturalist  in  the  world  of  morals,  though  with 
keen  observation,  expressing  himself  at  times  with  picturesque, 
piquant  exactness. 

With  Theophrastus,  we  come  to  the  beginnings  of  the  Alex- 
andrian period  and  the  new  philosophic  schools.  During  this  time, 
Attic  oratory,  as  well  as  philosophy,  finished  its  development;  and 
to  that  we  must  now  give  our  attention. 


CHAPTER   XX 

ATTIC   ORATORY 

1.  The  Development  of  Oratory  in  the  Fourth  Century.  2.  The  Masters  of 
Rhetoric.  3.  Judicial  Oratory  :  Andocides.  4.  Lysias  and  the  Art  of  the 
Logographers.  6.  Isaeus.  6.  The  Oratory  of  Declamation :  Isocrates ;  his 
Life  and  Work.  7.  The  Orations  of  Isocrates.  The  Oratorical  Period. 
8.  His  Theory  of  Education.  9.  Political  Oratory  :  General  View.  10.  De- 
mosthenes ;  his  Life  and  Career.  11.  Pleas  of  Demosthenes  in  Civil  Cases. 
12.  His  Political  Oratory ;  his  Characteristics  as  an  Orator  and  as  a  States- 
man. 13.  His  Most  Important  Orations.  Conclusion.  14.  .^Eschines. 
15.  Hyperides.  16.  Lycurgus.  17.  Dinarchus.  18.  Demetrius  of  Phale- 
ron.     Conclusion  of  the  Chapter  on  Attic  Oratory. 

1.  The  Development  of  Oratory  in  the  Fourth  Century.  —  Of  the  three 
forms  of  classic  prose,  the  last  to  attain  perfection  was  oratory, 
probably  because  it  was  the  youngest.  In  the  time  of  Thucydides 
and  Plato,  in  fact,  there  is  already  a  precedent  for  history  and  phi- 
losophy ;  but  written  oratory  does  not  begin  before  Gorgias  and 
Antiphon.  Even  in  written  oratory  the  types  do  not  all  produce  mas- 
terpieces at  the  same  time.  Judicial  oratory,  which  was  cultivated 
first  in  Sicily,  attained  its  earliest  finished  form  at  the  hands  of 
Lysias.  The  oratory  of  declamation,  inaugurated  by  Gorgias,  came 
into  full  bloom  only 'with  Isocrates.  Finally,  political_  oratory, 
though  scarcely  cultivated  by  the  earliest  orators  who  wrote  their 
speeches,  as  it  is  the  most  difficult  of  all,  does  not  reach  its  best 
form  until  the  time  of  Demosthenes  and  his  contemporaries,  v  It  is 
the  successive  appearance  of  masterpieces  in  the  three  types  of 
oratory  which  fixes  the  landmarks,  so  to  speak,  for  the  course  of  its 
history  in  the  fourth  century,  and  groups  its  details  about  the  three 
great  names  just  mentioned.  In  addition  to  the  orators  proper,  cer- 
tain others,  though  little  more  than  masters  of  rhetoric,  exercised 
some  influence,  and  so  merit  passing  mention.' 

'  BinLioGRAi'HY  :  General  edition  of  the  Attic  orators  :  Stephanus,  Geneva, 
]')75;  Iteiske.  Leipsic.  1772;  Bekker,  Berlin,  1>*23;  Baiter  and  Sauppe,  1>  vol.s.. 
Zurich,  I808-I80O.  Oratores  Attici  (omitting  D''mosthenes),  Didot  Collection, 
1>4»'>-1^47.  with  a  Latin  version  by  C.  Miiller.  PMitions  of  the  .several  orators 
will  be  mentioned  in  connection  with  each. 

Consult:  Blass,  Die  attische  Bfrednamkpit.  4  vols.,  2d  ed.,  Leipsic,  Teubner. 
1SS7.  the  classic  work  on  the  subject  ;  G.  Perrot,  ULloquence  judiciair"  a 
Afhin<'-'<.  Paris.  187;'  ;  .1.  Girard.  Et.mlf  snr  Veloqupncf'  attique,  Paris,  1874  ; 
K.  C  Jebb.    The  Attic   Orators  from  Aydiphon  to  Isaus,  London,  1870. 

o.JO 


Attic  Oratory  351 

2.  The  Masters  of  Rhetoric.  —  Two  of  these  became  celebrated; 
Thrasymachus  of  Chalcedoii  and  Theodoras  of  Byzantium.  These 
two  men,  by  precept  and  personal  endeavor,  added  something  to  the 
idea  in  the  minds  of  their  contemporaries  concerning  the  merits  of 
an  orator.  Thrasymachus,  who  appears  to  have  been  the  elder  of 
the  two,  is  an  interlocutor  of  Socrates  in  Plato's  Eejniblic.  He  is 
represented  there  as  a  spirited,  enthusiastic  speaker,  and  sanguine  in 
temperament.  The  portrait  agrees  well  with  what  we  know  of  him. 
His  ability  to  represent  the  pathetic  was  one  of  his  chief  attainments. 
He  knew  the  art  of  exciting  and  assuaging  emotion ;  he  could  bring 
tears  to  all  eyes  by  his  pictures  of  old  age  and  poverty,  could  pro- 
voke anger  and  indignation,  could  blacken  an  adversary's  character, 
or  energetically  repel  an  accusation.  He  gave  to  this  element  of  ora- 
tory a  degree  of  attention  wholly  new.  Coming  after  the  Olympic 
majesty  of  Pericles,  the  strained  nobility  of  Gorgias,  and  the  slightly 
dry  dialectic  of  Antiphon,  he  was  original  in  conceiving  the  passionate 
stylfij.n  oratory.  He  tried  to  exemplify  this  style  in  some  compo- 
sitions since  lost  (except  for  a  few  fragments),  and  particularly  in 
various  text-books  (Treatise  on  Rhetoric,  Collection  of  Exordiums  and 
Peroratio7is,  etc.).  One  of  the  most  celebrated  bore  the  characteristic 
title.  Commiserations  (*EXcot).  It  was  evidently  a  collection  of  the 
commonplaces  of  pathos,  designed  to  instruct  his  pupils,  by  exam- 
ples, in  the  use  of  the  oratory  of  passion.  He  tried  to  tone  down' 
the  pretentious  soaring  made  fashionable  by  the  school  of  Gorgias, 
and  put  forth  the  first  models  of  what  is  called  the  medium  style. 
If  Thrasymachus  was  not  a  great  writer,  he  was  certainly  a  very 
efficient  master.  Theodorus  of  Byzantium,  a  younger  contemporary, 
won  such  a  reputation  as  a  teacher  that  he  overshadowed  Lysias  and 
caused  him  to  seek  renown  in  another  field,  that  of  judicial  oratory.^ 
With  this  exception,  we  know  very  little  of  him.  The  most  remark- 
able thing  about  him  as  a  master  of  rhetoric  is  the  subtlety  which 
led  him  to  distinguish,  in  the  composition  of  s])eeches,  new  subdivi- 
sions, and  in  argumentation,  processes  of  reasoning  that  had  not  yet 
been  analyzed. - 

3.  Judicial  Oratory:  Andocides.'' — Although  Andocides  figures 
among  the  Ten  Orators  mentioned  in  the  Alexandrian  Canon,  that  is, 
among  the  recognized  masters  of  Attic  oratory,  his  reputation  was 
never  very  brilliant.  He  was,  besides,  less  an  artist  than  an  ama- 
teur. He  did  not  make  it  his  profession  to  be  a  logogra})her ;  he 
pleaded   only  those  cases   in  which   he  was   personally  interested. 

1  Cic,  Brutus,  48. 

2  Plato,  Fhwdrus,  p.  20G  E  ;  Aristotle,  HhH.  11,  23. 

8  Editions  by  Blass,  Teubner,  1880  ;  and  by  J.  Lipsius,  Tauchnitz,  1888. 


352  Greek  Literature 

Neither  his  troubled  life  nor  his  character  allowed  him  to  show  his 
native  endowments  at  their  best. 

His  life  was  that  of  an  adventurer.  Born  about  440,  of  one 
of  the  most  illustrious  families  at  Athens,  he  participated  in  that 
golden  youth  which  passed  its  time  in  pleasure,  visiting  sophists,  and 
intriguing  in  politics.  About  420,  strongly  siding  with  the  oligar- 
chic party,  he  was  suspected  of  having  parodied  the  Mysteries.  In 
415,  after  the  mutilation  of  the  Hermse,  he  was  tlirown  into  prison. 
To  escape  death,  he  turned  evidence  against  men  whom  he  pretended 
were  guilty.  Though  not  condemned,  he  was  disKonored.  He  went 
into  voluntary  exile,  and  began  to  travel,  busy  with  commerce  and 
moneymaking,  and  not  over-scrupulous  for  the  honor  of  his  business 
transactions.  On  two  occasions,  in  411  and  408,  he  tried  to  regain 
the  favor  of  his  party,  but  without  success.  At  the  time  of  the  sec- 
ond attempt,  he  pronounced  the  oration  On  his  Return.  He  came 
back  to  Athens  only  after  the  amnesty  of  Thrasybulus  in  408,  and 
then  advocated  a  democratic  policy  with  all  the  fervor  of  a  tyro. 
Old  hatreds  revived.  In  399,  he  was  accused  of  impiety.  The  ora- 
tion On  the  Mysteries  is  his  reply.  This  time  he  was  victorious. 
In  391  he  appears  among  the  plenii^otentiaries  commissioned  to  ne- 
gotiate a  treaty  with  Lacedaemon.  To  this  event  must  be  referred 
the  oration  On  the  Peace.  But  his  attempt  failed,  and,  according  to 
•one  biographer,  he  was  again  exiled.  This  is  the  last  that  is  known 
of  him. 

Amid  so  many  adventures  and  disturbances  he  wrote  very  little. 
We  have  under  his  name  four  orations;  besides  the  three  already 
mentioned,  there  is  one  Agcdnst  Alcihiades,  which  is  manifestly 
apocryphal.  The  ancients  cited  only  two  others,  of  which  some 
short  fragments  remain.  The  three  orations  whose  authenticity  is 
certain  have  the  peculiarity  of  being  much  different  from  one  another 
in  style.  The  oration  On  his  Return  is  an  imitation  of  the  style 
of  Antiphon.  The  oration  On  the  Mysteries  is  the  work  of  a  clever 
orator,  persuasive,  easy,  familiar  in  attack,  sometimes  eloquent. 
The  oration  On  the  Peace  is  an  indefinite,  cold  composition,  extremely 
feeble  in  thought.  On  the  whole,  it  is  evident  that  Andocides  never 
was  fully  able  to  reveal  his  personality.  He  is  at  his  best  in  the 
oirition  On  the  Mysteries;  but  here  again  his  nature  is  not  clearly 
slic)\vn,  and  his  art  is  never  of  superior  quality.  The  work  has  a 
vivid  liistoric  interest  because  of  the  testimony  —  unaccredited,  how- 
ever—  which  the  orator  gives  concerning  the  mutilation  of  the 
Hcrnue.  From  a  literary  point  of  view,  it  is  not  without  merit. 
Tlie  narratives  are  necessarily  long,  but  vivid  and  picturesque.  The 
arguiuentation  is  clever ;   the  style,  though  somewhat  careless,  has 


Attic  Oratory  353 

naturalness  and  animation.  It  is  owing  to  these  qualities  of  natural- 
ness and  animation  that  he  deserves  his  place  in  the  history  of  Athe- 
nian oratory ;  after  Gorgias  and  Antiphon,  he  proceeded  in  the  right 
direction.  By  a  happy  instinct,  he  felt  the  necessity  of  these  quali- 
ties and  deserves  credit  for  doing  so ;  but  it  was  reserved  for  others 
to  bring  to  the  task  a  feeling  for  art  and  a  literary  delicacy  of  which 
he  was  ignorant. 

4.  Lysias  and  the  Art  of  the  Logographers.'  —  Lysias,  on  the  con- 
trary, was  an  exquisite  artist,  one  of  the  most  perfect  models  of 
Atticism  in  that  peculiar  judicial  discourse  which  the  logographers 
composed  to  be  read  or  recited  by  others,  the  real  pleaders. 

He  was  born  at  Athens  about  440,  and  came  of  a  Syracusan 
family.  His  father,  Cephalus,  a  rich  armorer  of  Syracuse,  had  trans- 
ferred his  industry  to  Athens  a  few  years  before.  It  is  this  Cephalus 
who  appears  in  the  early  part  of  Plato's  Republic.  The  conversation 
begins  in  his  house  at  the  Piraeus;  the  old  man  —  for  Cephalus  is 
supposed  to  be  advanced  in  years — is  a  sage,  amiable  and  universally 
respected.  Though  a  simple  metic,  he  is  the  friend  and  equal  of  the 
foremost  citizens  at  Athens.  In  this  distinguished  house,  Lysias 
with  two  brothers  grew  to  manhood.  About  425,  when  fifteen  years 
old,  he  went  to  Thurii  in  Magna  Graecia,  where  Tisias  had  left  dis- 
ciples and  successors.  Here  he  studied  rhetoric,  and  his  brother 
Polemarchus  devoted  himself  to  philosophy.  In  413,  the  disaster  of 
the  Athenians  before  Syracuse  rendered  perilous  throughout  Sicily 
the  situation  of  the  friends  of  Athens.  These  included  Lysias  and7 
his  brother,  both  of  whom  returned  to  Athens.  There  Lysias  began 
the  profession ^,of  rhetoric.  The  revolution  of  404  was  a  disaster 
for  the  sons  of  Cephalus.  As  rich  men  and  partisans  of  the  democ- 
racy, they  fell  a  prey  to  the  hostility  of  the  Thirty,  who  imprisoned 
them.  Lysias  succeeded  in  escaping,  but  Polemarchus  was  put  to 
death.  The  reestablishment  of  the  democracy  brought  Lysias  back 
to  Athens,  and  the  friendship  of  Thrasybulus  won  for  him  a  de- 
cree granting  the  rights  of  citizenship.  Then  he  brought  to  trial 
Eratosthenes,  one  of  the  Thirty,  the  principal  agent  in  the  death  of 
Polemarchus.  Not  long  afterward,  the  degree  of  Thrasybulus  was 
revoked,  and  Lysias  again  became  a  metic.  Thus  deprived  of  the 
right  to  take  part  in  public  affairs,  he  again  devoted  himself  to  liter- 

1  Critical  editions  by  Scheibo,  Teubner  ;  Cobet-IIartmann,  Amsterdam,  1800  ; 
Tlialhcim,  Leipsic,  1001  ;  and  Westerniann,  Leipsic,  1854.  Select  orations  with 
notes,  by  Eauchenstcin,  Berlin,  1881-1884  ;  and  Frohberiier.  Berlin,  1880-1881. 
American  edition  by  Morgan,  Boston,  1805  ;  English  edition  by  Schuckburgh, 
London,  1800. 

There  is  a  fine  French  critique  by  J.  Girard  in  his  Etudes  sur  Veloqxience 
attique. 


354  Greek  Literature 

ary  work.  Khetoric  proper  did  not  satisfy  him.  Whether  because 
the  growing  reputation  of  Theodorus  of  Byzantium  hindered  him,  as 
■we  are  told  by  Cicero,  or  for  some  other  reason,  he  devoted  himself 
to  a  more  serious  and  active  oratory.  He  became  a  logographer,  or 
writer  of  speeches  for  others.  It  seems  that  he  died  about  380,  with 
the  reputation  of  being  the  foremost  logographer  in  Athens. 

In  antiquity  more  than  four  hundred  speeches,  ostensibly  his,  were 
extant.  ]Many,  doubtless,  were  apocryphal ;  but  even  the  severest 
critics  recognized  about  half  as  authentic.  Of  this  immense  orator- 
ical collection  there  remain  to-day  somewhat  more  than  thirty  com- 
plete orations  or  extracts,  some  in  very  bad  condition.  On  the  whole, 
it  is  only  in  about  fifteen  that  we  find  a  really  faithful  image  of  his 
genius.  Of  his  sophistic  writings,  absolutely  nothing  remains,  unless 
one  considers  as  authentic  the  discourse  on  love  in  Plato's  Phcedrus. 
But,  howsoever  instructive,  this  is  probably  a  mere  imitation.  In  the 
second  part  of  his  life  he  composed  another  declamation,  the  Olymjnc 
Discourse,  delivered  in  388.  We  have  only  its  exordium.  He 
exhorted  the  Greeks  to  concord  and  union  against  the  tyrants,  iirg- 
ing  his  auditors,  by  way  of  commencing  the  struggle,  to  burn  with- 
out delay  the  tents  sent  by  Dionysius  of  Syracuse  to  Olympia ;  and 
he  obtained  at  least,  we  are  told,  the  expulsion  of  the  Syracusan 
ambassadors.  The  advice  was  odd,  and,  judging  from  the  exordium, 
the  oration  was  not  powerful.  He  also  composed,  at  least  once,  a 
deliberative  oration  for  some  statesman  (Or.  XXXI\'^.  Only  a  few 
pages  of  it,  however,  are  extant.  His  real  calling,  aside  from  the 
accusation  against  Eratosthenes,  was  that  of  a  logographer;  and  it 
is  these  two  forms  of  judicial  oratory  that  clearly  vindicate  his  talent 
to-day. 

The  accusation  against  Eratosthenes  is  a  fine  oration  and  justly  cel- 
ebrated. In  a  neat,  short,  judicious  exordium,  clever,  though  perhaps 
too  carefully  written,  he  states  briefly  the  magnitude  of  the  wrongs 
he  has  suffered,  the  public  interest  affected  in  the  case,  his  lack  of 
exj)erience  in  court,  and  his  confidence  in  the  tribunal.  These  are 
traditional  commonplaces,  which  each  orator  handles  in  his  own 
way.  Then  comes  the  narration,  wonderful  in  its  clearness,  brevity, 
y)lausibility,  persuasive  acuteness,  and  sober,  restrained  pathos. 
The  orator  narrates  the  facts  in  few  words  ;  really  things  must 
have  taken  place  as  descril^ed — all  is  so  simple,  vivid,  natural. 
Here  and  there  irony  breaks  the  monotony  of  the  narrative,  which 
gradually  1)eroines  more  animated  till  it  reaches  the  climax.  There 
the  orator  brings  together  tlie  various  sentiments  of  pity  for  the 
victims  and  hatred  against  the  tyrants  which  he  has  imperceptibly 
excited.     Then  begins  the  discussion  proper,  vivid  and  earnest,  but 


Attic  Oratory  355 

summary  and  simple.  A  fine  peroration  contrasts  the  justice  of  the 
Thirty  with  that  of  the  democracy,  attacks  the  partisans  of  Eratos- 
thenes, makes  an  appeal  to  all  the  parties,  now  reconciled  in  justice 
and  liberty,  and  closes  with  a  brief  recapitulation,  that  is  energetic 
and  noble  in  tone.     The  author  of  the  oration  is  evidently  a  master 

■J>f  language.  His  tempered  eloquence  is  both  spirited  and  elegant. 
In  its  truthfulness,  moderation,  full  self-possession,  justness  of  sub- 
stance and  form,  and  faultless  taste,  it  is  perfectly  Attic.  Perhaps, 
however,  the  gravity  of  the  situation  calls  for  more  vehemence  and 
emphasis.  (Demosthenes  would  have  spoken  differently.  The  oration 
is  a  masterpiece,  yet  it  is  not  in  defending  himself  that  Lysias  is  un- 
rivalled. He  is  a  greater  artist,  assuredly,  in  subjects  better  adapted 
to  the  nature  of  his  genius.  His  triumph  was  in  composing  speeches 
for  some  one  else,  for  simple  persons,  honest,  unsophisticated  people, 
and  lending  to  them,  as  a  logographer,  his  own  exquisite  sagacity. 

''  Xhe  art  of  the  logographers  was  contemporary  with  rhetoric 
itself.  Antiphon  had  exercised  it  with  success  at  Athens.  Yet 
Lys^as^is  the  really  classic  example  ;  for  there  was  "  preestablished 
harmony,"  so  to  speak, "^Between  his  character  and  the  laws  of  the 
type.  The  logographer  was  not  expected  to  appear  personally  in 
debate  and  did  not  think  himself  called  upon  to  be  eloquent.  He 
concealed  himself  behind  his  client,  who  spoke  ostensibly  his  own 
sentiments,  as  a  humble  citizen  unacquainted  with  forensic,  and 
obliged  to  be  brief  on  account  of  the  clepsydra,  which  parsimoni- 
ously measured  his  time.  The  logographer,  in  a  way,  did  the  work 
of  a  dramatic  poet ;  like  Sophocles  or  Menander,  he  needed  to  iden- 
tify himself  with  the  personage  that  appeared  on  the  scene.  This 
was  generally  a  man  of  the  people,  sometimes  a  countryman  with- 
out experience,  at  any  rate  a  man  whose  interest  it  was  to  appear 
before  the  judges  as  being  moderate,  simple,  and  incapable  of  the 
intrigue  of  the  professional  litigant.  For  the  logographer,  the 
height  of  art  was  to  show  as  little  brilliance  as  possible,  or  at  least 
not  to  display  it,  and  manifest  only  that  type  of  art  which  appears 
to  none  but  delicate  connoisseurs  and  consists  in  perfect  naturalness 
of  substance  and  form. 

But  Lysias  possessed  to  perfection  all  the  gifts  that  could  enable 
him  to  realize  such  an  ideal,  and  in  this  use  of  his  talent  his  very 
defects  were  turned  to  his  advantage.  His  style  is  of  cliarming 
simplicity.  In  the  matter  of  diction,  he  confines  himself  to  pure 
Attic,  with  no  admixture  of  poetic  forms  or  of  new  words.  The 
current  language  was  sufficient.  He  was  content  to  speak  it  with 
exact  precision.  He  even  avoided  too  strong  figures,  too  bold  meta- 
phors, all  that  could  betray  the  orator's  profession.     His  sentences 


( 


356  Greek  Literature 

are  generally  short.  They  do  not  always  conform  to  rules,  yet  they 
are  generally  simple  in  design  —  periodic,  brief,  and  with  a  unity 
that  is  harmonious  and  firm.  The  ancient  critics  did  not  weary  of 
eulogies  on  the  perfection  of  his  periods;  and  it  is  perhaps  here 
that  the  artist  as  such  would  be  most  plainly  manifest,  were  it  not 
that  the  perfection  is  so  easy,  complete,  and  practical,  so-  well  suited 
to  the  subject.  Certain  consonances  or  symmetries,  in  the  manner  of 
Gorgias,  reservedly  accentuated  the  form  of  the  ideas,  yet  without 
ever  engaging  attention.  His  lucid,  sober,  somewhat  dry  argumenta- 
tion is  well  suited  to  a  speaker  who  improvises  and  is  more  occu- 
pied with  his  evident  rights  than  concerned  for  the  subtleties  of 
dialectic.  It  breathes  honesty ;  sometimes  it  is  even  artless,  yet 
without  excluding  a  measure  of  shrewdness.  It  contains  nothing 
like  quibbling ;  it  gains  the  confidence  of  the  judges  at  once  by 
an  air  of  good  faith  that  could  not  be  mere  appearance.  His  thor- 
oughly well-ordered  invention,  while  conforming  to  the  necessary 
rules  of  good  sense,  is  not  excessively  refined;  exordium,  narration, 
discussion,  peroration,  these  are  the  natural  elements  of  every  plea 
and  the  only  ones  that  he  made  use  of.  He  is  on  his -guard  against 
the  too  subtle  divisions  made  by  certain  rhetoricians.  His  orations,^ 
therefore,  are  simple,  clear,  perfectly  natural,  and  highly  persuasive.  / 
Most  of  his  exordiums  were  remarkable  for  their  extreme  simplic-  -* 
ity.  If  some  of  them  seem  to  us  a  little  too  artificial,  it  is  be- 
cause, as  we  have  said,  the  schools  of  rhetoric  had  their  collections 
of  exordiums,  and  the  influence  of  these  collections  sometimes  be- 
comes manifest.  But  the  Athenian  judges  could  not  have  been 
greatly  offended  by  them.  The  narrations  almost  always  formed] 
the  essential  feature  of  the  pleas  of  Lysias,  and  they  are  all  re^ 
masterpieces.  Nowhere  else  is  the  style  more  easy  and  artless. 
There  is  no  apparent  effort  to  turn  facts  to  the  advantage  of  the 
case ;  one  seems  to  hear  the  bare  truth.  The  simple,  precise  pleader 
must  be  an  honest  man.  Even  before  he  commences  the  discussion, 
the  judges  are  quite  ready  to  listen ;  and  his  conclusion  seems  to  be 
deduced  from  the  facts  themselves.  Hence  the  discussion  proper 
does  not  occupy  much  space.  Why  should  it  ?  If  he  had  needed 
to  convert  a  hostile  audience,  it  would  be  insufficient.  But  are  not 
the  judges  already  his  friends?  Are  they  not  won  beforehand  by 
his  lucid  moderation  and  reasonable  simplicity  ?  In  all  the  ora- 
tions of  the  Athenian  orators,  the  discussion  proper  is  followed  by 
a  refutation  of  the  arguments  anticipated  from  the  opposition,  and 
generally  this  is  accompanied  by  personal  attacks.  Lysias  is  no  ex- 
ception to  the  rule,  but  he  obeys  it  with  moderation  and  reserve. 
The  peroration  is  as  short  as  possible  —  a  few  words,  as  was  usual, 

J 


Attic  Oratory  357 

on  the  services  rendered  by  the  pleader  to.the  city,  and  on  the  de- 
mocracy of  his  sentiments,  followed, ,'  without  recapitulation  of 
argumentsj  by  a  short  closing  sentence. 

The  pleas  of  Lysias  are  of  very  different  sorts,  and  touch  upon 
the  most  varied  questions.  The  Avhole  social  life  of  the  times  is  dis- 
closed, with  its  prejudices,  its  occupations,  and  its  sentiments.  The 
orator's  language  assumes  every  tone  from  grave  seriousness  to  mirth. 
Its  historical  and  literary  interest  is  therefore  considerable.  Two  or 
three  examples,  rapidly  analyzed,  will  suffice  to  show  the  orator's 
talent  in  its  most  characteristic  aspects. 

Let  us  examine  as  specimens  of  serious  discourse  his  pleas  in  a 
case  of  adultery  (On  the  Murder  of  Eratosthenes)  and  in  a  case  of  guard- 
ianship (Against  Diogiton).  Euphiletus  is  being  prosecuted  before  a 
heliastic  court  as  a  murderer,  for  having  slain  the  enemy  of  his 
honor,  Eratosthenes,  who  had  been  taken  in  the  act  of  crime.  Half 
of  the  plea,  which  is,  moreover,  very  short,  is  occupied  with  the 
narrative  of  the  facts.  Nothing  could  be  simpler  or  more  adroit. 
It  is  clear,  in  fact,  that  if  the  crime  of  Eratosthenes  against  Euphi- 
letus becomes  manifest,  the  latter's  vengeance  is  pardoned  in  advance. 
To  this  end  the  whole  narrative  is  directed.  It  is  exquisite  in  sim- 
plicity, clearness,  and  restrained  emotion.  Euphiletus  describes 
his  long-continued  confidence,  the  first  unheeded  intimations  of  an 
intrigue,  the  positive  denunciation,  which  caused  him  anxiety,  his 
resolution  to  learn  the  truth,  his  prudence  in  the  investigation, 
his  discovery,  and  the  punishment  of  the  culprit.  Then  the  case 
is  won.  "Without  further  raising  his  voice,  by  the  mere  force  of 
truth,  he  has  brought  about  persuasion.  When  the  orator  shall  have 
asked  that  the  law  be  read  and  the  witnesses  cited,  it  will  be  neces- 
sary only  to  discuss  two  or  three  objections  of  detail  that  can  be 
raised,  and  to  conclude.  The  plea  is  not  only  a  model  of  oratorical 
art,  but  also  a  vivid  picture  of  Athenian  manners.  All  the  person- 
ages of  the  action  are  sketched  with  so  light  and  sure  a  hand  that 
they  live  before  our  eyes.  In  the  discourse  Against  Diogiton,  we 
have  a  case  of  wards  defrauded  by  their  guardian,  wlio  is  also  their 
grandfather.  The  speaker  in  their  behalf  is  their  sister's  husband. 
The  exordium,  a  model  of  simple,  persuasive  dignity,  is  as  follows  :  — 

"If  the  question,  judges,  had  been  less  serious,  I  should  never 
have  allowed  these  children  to  appear  before  you  ;  for  I  regard  quar- 
rels between  relatives  as  highly  dishonorable,  and  I  know  that  both 
parties  are  looked  upon  with  severity  by  you,  one  for  tlie  wrong  they 
have  done,  the  other  for  not  having  been  willing  to  suffer  aught  from 
their  relatives.  But  these  children,  judges,  have  been  shamelessly 
robbed  and  ill-treated  by  those  who  ought  to  have  done  them  good ; 


358  Greek  Literature 

when  they  came  to  me,  their  brother-in-law,  and  asked  my  aid,  I 
could  not  refuse  to  speak  in  their  behalf;  for  I  am  the  husband  of 
their  sister,  who  is  Diogiton's  grandchild.  Owing  to  the  entreaties 
of  both  parties,  I  at  first  got  them  to  submit  the  matter  to  the  arbi- 
tration of  their  friends,  for  I  wished  above  all  not  to  admit  the  pub- 
lic into  our  confidence ;  but  Diogiton,  disregarding  the  evidence, 
refused  to  listen  to  anything ;  and,  instead  of  accepting  the  judgment 
of  his  friends,  preferred  to  have  the  matter  decided  by  the  courts, 
running  the  risk  of  incurring  the  extreme  of  infamy  rather  than 
avert  our  accusation  by  doing  us  justice.  Therefore,  judges,  if  I 
show  you  that  these  children  have  been  treated  by  their  grandfather 
and  guardian  as  no  one  else  at  Athens  ever  has  been  treated,  even  by 
strangers,  I  beg  you  to  see  to  it  that  they  have  justice  done  them ; 
but  if  I  do  not  succeed  in  so  doing,  then  believe  what  this  man  tells 
you,  and  look  upon  us  henceforth  as  dishonest.  I  shall  try  to  relate 
to  you  the  facts  of  the  case  from  the  beginning." 

The  orator,  in  a  few  sentences,  has  brought  the  judges  to  know 
the  main  features  of  the  case,  indicated  the  relationship  between  the 
personages,  and  given  the  most  favorable  impression  of  his  own  rea- 
sonableness. Then  comes  the  narrative  of  the  facts.  In  reality,  the 
leading  role  was  played  by  a  woman,  the  mother  of  the  children  and 
the  daughter  of  Diogiton.  She  is  an  admirable  mother,  who  defends 
her  children  with  energy  and  intelligence,  and  her  words  come  from 
the  heart.  There  is  a  sort  of  family  council  in  which  she  decides 
to  speak  her  opinion.  Her  language  is  reported  in  the  plea ;  one 
seems  to  hear  her  energetic  words,  permeated  with  maternal  love, 
and  abounding  more  in  sentiment  than  in  abstract  ideas,  as  befits  the 
language  of  a  woman  and  a  mother.  When  she  had  ceased  to  speak, 
the  narrator  tells  us,  there  was  no  one  but  had  tears  in  his  eyes,  and 
the  company  separated  silently  and  in  sadness.  This  whole  plea 
has  a  living  verity  and  an  extreme  charm.  The  discourse  is  con- 
tinued by  a  discussion  .of  money  matters,  which  is  incomplete. 

The  plea  For  the  Cijj[>j)le  is  also  a  masterpiece,  but  of  a  different 
type.  The  client  is  one  of  those  poor  cripples  to  whom  Athenian 
law  accorded  a  pension  in  money ;  he  received  one  obol  per  day. 
He  practised  a  petty  trade  that  brought  him  some  income.  An 
enemy  of  his  has  asked  the  counsel  of  the  Five  Hundred,  who  re- 
vised each  year  the  list  of  the  poor  in  need  of  succor,  to  strike  off 
his  name.  The  pleader  opposes  this  demand.  The  affair,  evidently, 
was  not  one  of  those  out  of  which  an  advocate  was  likely  to  grow 
wealthy ;  but  Lysias,  in  writing  the  plea,  was  amusing  himself. 
His  client  is  set  forth  with  fascinating  good  nature;  he  was  probably 
an  odd  person,  well  known  in  Athens,  whose  appearance  would  tempt 
even  a  logographer  of  great  reputation,  such  as  Lysias.  After  a 
short  exordium,  perhaps  a  trifle  too  elegant  to  suit  our  taste,  the 


Attic  Oratoi-y  359 

pleader  recounts  the  charges  brought  for  the  sake  of  depriving  him 
of  his  pension.  He  is  in  easy  circumstances,  it  is  said,  by  reason  of 
his  trade ;  he  rides  on  horseback,  keeps  the  company  of  spend- 
thrifts, and  is  formidable  and  otherwise  violent  in  temper.  He  re- 
plies point  by  point,  with  amusing  cunning  and  sagacious  irony  :  — 

"  In  the  way  of  a  legacy,  judges,  my  father  left  me  nothing  at  all ; 
and  as  for  my  mother,  I  was  obliged  to  support  her  till  she  died,  two 
years  ago.  Then  my  trade  does  not  bring  in  much ;  I  have  great 
difficulty  in  following  it,  and  I  have  not  yet  found  a  purchaser  who 
wishes  to  succeed  me  in  my  business.  .  .  ."  ^ 

He  had  been  reproached  for  riding  on  horseback. 

''  If  I  were  rich,  I  should  have  ray  own  ass,  instead  of  mounting 
the  horses  of  others.  But  as  I  cannot  purchase  anything  so  costly, 
I  am  obliged  to  use  the  horses  of  my  friends.  If  my  adversary 
should  see  me  on  an  ass,  he  would  say  nothing — what  could  he  say, 
in  fact  ?  And  because  he  sees  me  riding  on  horses  that  are  lent  to  me, 
let  him  not  try  to  persuade  you  that  I  am  of  sound  body.  When  I  use 
two  canes,  instead  of  merely  one,  as  is  customary,  he  does  not 
show  himself  eager  to  make  that  a  token  of  good  health."  ^ 

A  little  farther  on  the  pleader's  language  may  be  thus  sum- 
marized :  He  upbraids  me  as  violent ;  can  one  be  violent,  with  such 
a  physique  as  mine  ?  He  accuses  me  of  keeping  the  company  of 
men  of  little  worth ;  but  I  have  a  trade,  and  my  doors  must  be  kept 
open  for  clients,  like  those  of  the  perfumer  and  the  barber.  The 
oiator  closes  by  saying  that,  if  he  cannot  boast  of  his  choregia  and 
his  trierarchies,  after  the  manner  of  the  wealthy,  he  nevertheless 
gave  proof  of  his  patriotism  in  the  time  of  the  Thirty. 

The  sober,  elegant,  naively  graceful  Atticism  of  Lysias  was  well 
adapted  to  this  sort  of  pleading  and  became  the  classic  model  for 
his  successors.  The  canon  of  the  type  was  henceforth  iixed.  It  is 
interesting  to  see  how  far,  not  merely  Isieus  and  Hyperides,  but 
even  Isocrates  and  Demosthenes,  though  so  different  in  many  ways, 
strove  to  imitate  him  when  they  needed  to  follow  the  profession  of 
speech-writing.  At  liome,  men  went  still  farther  ;  Brutus  and  others 
wished  to  make  him  the  unique,  supreme  type  of  Attic  oratory,  to 
the  exclusion  of  Demosthenes.  The  movement  was  a  paradox,  a 
whim  of  the  fastidious.  The  Atticism  of  Lysias  is,  indeed,  delight- 
ful ;  but.  though  perfect  in  its  way,  other  examples  of  oratory  show 
greater  vigor  and  brilliance. 

*  5.  Isaeus.' — Isteus  is  likewise  a  logographer,  A  Chalcidian  by 
birth,  according  to  some,  an  Athenian,  according  to  others,  he  never- 

1  Or.  XXIV,  6.  2  7^,-,;.  n-12. 

8  Critical  edition  by  Scbeibe,  Teubner.     Edition  by  Burmann,  Berlin,  1883. 


360  Greek  Literature 

theless  lived  at  Athens,  but  held  himself  aloof  from  public  affairs. 
The  earliest  extant  oration  of  his  to  which  we  can  assign  a  date 
belongs  to  the  year  389 ;  the  latest  to  the  year  353.  He  was,  then, 
younger  than  Lysias  and  older  than  Demosthenes.  As  a  logographer, 
he  won  a  great  reputation,  and  passed  as  having  been  the  teacher  of 
Demosthenes.  This  tradition,  when  divested  of  some  absurd  legends 
grafted  upon  it,  as,  for  example,  that  which  attributes  to  him  the 
orations  pronounced  by  Demosthenes  against  his  guardians,  is  not  in 
itself  improbable. 

Isaeus  seems  to  have  left  some  fifty  orations  (not  counting  the 
apocryphal  ones)  and  various  rhetorical  works.  Of  the  orations, 
twelve,  all  relative  to  matters  of  inheritance,  are  still  extant.  They 
constituted  one  group  of  the  primitive  collection  when  that  was  divided 
according  to  the  nature  of  the  subjects  treated.  This  group  escaped 
destruction.  The  similarity  of  the  subjects  makes  them  even  more 
interesting  for  the  legal  historian  than  for  the  historian  of  literature. 

At  the  first  glance,  the  talent  of  Isaeus  seems  much  like  that  of 
Lysias.  There  is  the  same  purity  and  precision  of  language,  the. 
same  clearness  in  sentence  structure,  and  the  same  lucid,  persuasive 
brevity  of  the  oration  as  a  whole.  ISIany  readers,  even  in  antiquity, 
had  difficulty  in  distinguishing  the  works  of  the  two  authors,  as  we 
learn  from  Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus.  But  a  little  attention  reveals 
certain  differences.  In  general  Isaeus  is  less  skilful  as  a  painter 
than  Lysias,  and  more  so  as  a  dialectician.  His  sentences,  though 
also  short  and  clear,  have  not  the  graceful  simplicity,  the  ])leasiiig  free- 
dom from  constraint,  characteristic  of  his  predecessor.  Their  turn  is 
more  vigorous  and  earnest.  Sometimes  they  resemble  those  of  Demos- 
thenes in  their  imperious,  urgent  insistence.  His  dialectic  is  more 
subtle  and  arbitrary,  and  sometimes  less  trustworthy.  He  gives  fewer 
facts  and  more  discussion.  He  can  arrange  his  discourse  cleverly 
in  view  of  his  demonstration,  can  employ  preparatives  and  prudent 
digressions,  can  divide  the  narration  into  several  parts  so  as  to  unite 
the  discussion  more  closely  with  it,  can  announce  his  ])lan  and 
then  summarize  and  repeat  his  proofs.  He  urges  and  emphasizes  his 
plea  when  necessary,  and  compels  his  hearers  to  follow  it  without 
distraction. 

One  of  his  masterpieces,  a  plea  in  which  are  well  displayed  all 
the  resources  of  his  art,  is  the  oration  On  the  Inheritance  of  Clron. 
For  the  case  comprises  a  question  of  fact  and  one  of  law.  The 
pleader  must  establish  his  good  character  and  demonstrate  the 
conclusions  which  he  draws  therefrom.  On  these  two  points  he 
speaks  in  turn  with  subtle  cleverness,  ingenuity,  precision,  and 
emphasis. 


Attic  Oratorij  361 

One  can  understand  why  Demosthenes  chose  the  oratory  of 
Isceus  as  his  particular  model.  This  spirited,  emphatic  language 
suited  his  own  vehemence. 

Between  Lysias  and  Demosthenes,  there  is,  besides  Isaeus,  still 
another  who  intervenes  ;  it  is  Isocrates.  He  personifies  and  dis- 
plays the  oratory  of  declamation  in  the  fourth  century. 

6.    The  Oratory  of  Declamation:  Isocrates;  his  Life  andWork.^  —  Isoc- 
rates, the  son  of  Theodorus  of  the  deme  of  Erchia,  was  born  in  436. 
His  father  owned  a  flute  manufactory,  which  put  him  in  easy  cir- 
cumstances.    Isocrates  received~Elie~education  of  a  wealthy  young 
Athenian.     He  was  the  pupil  of  Prodicus ;  he  listened  also  to  Soc- 
rates, to  whom  he  owes  much.     Yet  philosophy  did  not  deeply  inter- 
est him.     His  father  having  been  ruined  by  the  Peloponnesian  War, 
he  was  obliged  to  earn  his  living.     He  completed  his  oratorical  edu- 
cation under  Gorgias,   then  retired  to  Thessaly,  and   returned   to 
Athens  to  practise  the  profession  of  a  logographer.     He  composed 
pleas  for  about  a  dozen  years ;  those  still  extant  were  probably  writ- 
ten between  400  and  387.      Thus  he  gained  a  reputation  and  an 
independent   fortune.     But   his   profession  was   distasteful.     Ques- 
tions of  inheritance,  fraud,  injustice,  seemed  paltry  to  him.     Art, 
for  a  logographer,  consisted  in  obliterating  one's  personality  and 
concealing  it  behind  a  pleader.     Isocrates  loved  generalities,  sono- 
rous eloquence,  immediate  glory,  applause  right  at  hand.     The  ora- 
tory of  the  political  rostrum  was  better  fitted  to  satisfy  him,  yet 
he  did  not  feel  sure  of   succeeding  there.      His  voice  was  feeble ; 
his  timidity,  insurmountable.     Moreover,  he  had  none  of  the  quali- 
ties of  a  man  of  action.     What  he  loved  in  politics  was  chiefly  the 
generalities,  not  the  precise  details  of  facts.     He  was  a  candid,  un- 
constrained idealist,  a  painstaking  artist,  fond  of  tranquillity,  vain,  v 
and  highly  sensitive,  but  he  lacked  those  elements  that  are  necessary  \ 
for  success  in  the  struggles  of  public  life.     There  remained  epidictic  x 
oratory   and    the    teaching    of    rhetoric.      To    this    field   Isocrates  % 
turned  his  attention.     His  first  work  of  the  sort  must  have  been  '' 
written  between  390  and  380.     The  Panegyriais  dates  from  380.    y 
Then  for  more  than  forty  years  he  was  the  most  celebrated  teacher  of  ^ 
rlietoric  in  Athens  and  the  greatest  of  the  declaiming  orators.     Cicero  ' 
several  times  speaks  with  admiration  and  praise  of  the  school  of 
Isocrates,  from  which  came  forth,  as  from  another  Trojan  horse,  so 

1  Critical  edition  by  Benseler-Blass,  Teubner.  and  an  annotated  edition  of 
select  orations  by  Schneider.  Leipsic.  Teubner,  ;5d  ed.,  1875. 

French  translation  by  the  Due  de  Clermont- Tonnerre,  Paris,  Didot,  1862- 
18G4. 

Head  the  Ehule  sitr  Isocrate.  by  E.  Ilavet,  preceding  the  French  translation 
of  the  Aiitidonis  by  Cartellier,  I'aris,  18G.'3. 


362  Greek  Literature 

many  heroes  and  princes  of  eloquence.^  There  were  orators  like 
Hyperides  and  Lycurgus,  historians  like  Ephorus  and  Theopompus, 
and  statesmen  like  Timothens,  the  son  of  Conon.  Isocrates,  at  the 
close  of  his  life,  was  a  noted  personage  in  Greece :  he  had  relations 
with  Evagoras  and  Nicocles,  kings  of  Salamis  in  Cyprus ;  with  Archi- 
damus,  king  of  Sparta;  with  Jason  of  Pheraj;  and  with  Philip  of 
!^^acedon.  He  asked  a  thousand  drachmae  from  each  of  his  pupils, 
and  so  grew  very  rich.  Good  health  and  a  perfect  moral  equilib- 
rium gave  him  extraordinary  longevity.  At  the  age  of  ninety-seven 
he  was  still  writing  his  Panathenaica.  He  died  the  year  following, 
after  the  battle  of  Chccronea  (338),  —  a  voluntary  death,  we  are 
told,  that  he  might  not  survive  the  ruin  of  his  illusions  concerning 
Philip.  But  the  explanation  is  doubtful.  He  married  late  in  life, 
and  had  no  children  ;  but  he  had  adopted  his  wife's  son  Aphareus, 
who  was  an  orator  and  tragic  poet,  and  whose  children  were  to  him 
like  grandchildren  of  his  own. 

Six  pleas  are  extant  under  his  name,  together  with  fifteen  declama- 
tory orations  and  nine  letters.  Some  of  these  works  are  mutilated. 
They  are  about  a  third  of  what  the  ancients  possessed ;  but  many  of 
the  works  once  attributed  to  him  were  already  rejected  as  apocryphal 
by  the  most  competent  critics  in  antiquity ;  though,  of  the  works 
still  extant,  only  a  single  oration,  the  Demonicus,  and  one  letter  — 
the  IX  —  seem  to  be  justly  in  doubt.  Accordingly  we  know  Isocrates 
very  well. 

AVe  sliall  not  discuss  his  Letters,  since  they  present  exactly  the 
same  character  as  the  declamations,  though  on  a  lesser  scale. 

Nor  can  the  pleas  long  occupy  our  attention,  whatever  their 
merit.  They  resemble  those  of  Lysias  in  their  apparent  honesty, 
candor,  and  truth,  the  purity  of  their  Atticism,  and  the  propriety  of 
their  language.  They  show  the  taste  for  generalities  and  common- 
places, and  the  regard  for  the  connection  between  ideas,  which 
are  characteristic  of  tlieir  autlior.  Yet  the  orator,  in  his  pleas,  is 
not  wholly  himself,  because  the  type  of  composition  hinders  him ; 
and,  as  oiily  a  beginner,  he  is  still  trying  to  discover  his  aptitudes. 
Sometimes  there  are  surprising  differences  of  style  between  these 
]ileas,  due  not  sim])ly  to  differences  of  subject-matter.  It  is  evident 
tliat  the  author  had  not  yet  attained  a  well-defined  idea  of  style.  He 
hesitates  V)t'tween  that  of  Gorgias  and  that  of  Lysias,  yet  no  regular 
evolution  can  be  traced  in  the  changes.  The  pleas  are  works  of  high 
order:  but  what  has  given  him  the  considerable  place  he  holds  in  the 
history  r.f  Greek  prose  is  his  declamatory  orations  and  his  discourses 
of  instruction.     In  these  he  was  really  original. 

1  Di   Orat.  II,  'J4  ;  cf.  Brutus.  32,  and  Orator,  40. 


Attic  Oratory    .  363 

7.  The  Orations  of  Isocrates.  The  Oratorical  Period.  —  From  the 
time  of  Gorgias,  sophistry  had  tried  to  create  an  epidictic  type 
of  oratory  capable  of  charming  the  fastidious.  In  the  eyes  of  Isoc- 
rates it  had  failed,  sometimes  on  account  of  the  mediocrity  of  the 
subjects,  which  were  only  frivolous  witticisms  or  labored  paradoxes, 
sometimes  by  adornments  of  style  that  were  lacking  in  truth.  Isoc- 
rates had  a  clear  consciousness  of  the  end  to  be  attained.  His  object 
was  twofold :  to  give  oratory  a  serious  basis,  to  make  it,  as  he  said, 
a  "  philosophy " ;  and  to  lend  this  sober  oratory  a  beauty  of  form 
capable  of  exciting  in  the  reader  a  pleasure  analogous  to  that  caused  , 
by  elegant  verse. ^  He  had  not  been  the  friend  of  Socrates  in  vain. 
According  to  another  of  his  expressions,  he  wished  to  compose  orations 
that  should  be  in  substance  "  pan-Hellenic  and  political."  Such  was 
his  ambition.     How  did  he  realize  it  ? 

What  are  the  ideas  that  form  his  philosophy  ?  Strictly  speak- 
ing, they  are  often  moral.  Some  are  beautiful,  permeated  with  noble 
wisdom,  thoroughly  Greek,  and  truly  human.  Yet  it  is  not  here 
that  he  is  most  original ;  in  all  that  has  to  do  with  private  morals, 
he  confines  himself  to  the  current  ideas  as  the  best.  But  he  touches 
upon  the  matter  only  by  accident.  His  chief  business  is  politics : 
this,  well  saturated  with  morals,  inspires  the  greater  part  of  his  ora- 
tory. The  work  to  which  he  devoted  his  life  was  one  of  political 
sermoiiizing.  H_is_the^is  can  be  summed  up  in  a  single  word:  the 
xuLLon  of  Greece  against  the  barbanah.  '  This*T5fM'd,  simple  idea, 
combined  with  much  thaTis  elus"i\'e7is  maintained  by  him  from  one 
end  of  his  long  career  to  the  other  with  sincerity,  conviction,  and  an 
optimism  that  is  sometimes  fanciful.  Whatever  the  subject  he  is 
treating,  he  always  keeps  in  view  this  fundamental  idea.  It  is  the 
soul  of  his  politics,  explaining  and  binding  together  all  its  details. 
This  theory  takes  precedence  of  everything  in  the  splendid  image 
he  has  of  Greece,  which  he  regards  as  the  home  of  intellectual  culture 
and  civilization.  He  has  said  magnificently  in  one  passage  that 
the  thing  which  makes  a  man  Greek  is  rather  his  culture  than 
his  descent.-  The  Persian  AVars  had  been  a  splendid  triumpli  of 
civilization  over  barbarism.  ]>ut  since  then  all  was  changed.  The 
Great  King  was  managing  the  affairs  of  Greece,  and  for  him  the 
disgraceful  treaty  of  Antalcidas  Avas  the  most  glorious  of  trophies.'^ 
Had  he  become  more  powerful?  Xo.  Ten  thousand  Greeks  had 
just  traversed  the  whole  of  Asia,  notwithstanding  his  iiienaces. 
His  strength  was  due  only  to  tlie  disunion  of  Greece.  The  Greek 
cities  were  jealous  of  one  another ;  each  was  weakened  by  internal 

1  Aiitiil'ifiisy  4G  ;  Paneg.  17  and  188  :   Evaqoras,  8-11,  etc. 
"^  I'awfj.  50.  ■^  Ibid.'uO,  180. 


364  Greek  Literature 

discord ;  everything  was  in  disorder  and  confusion.  The  causes  of 
the  evil  showed  what  should  be  the  remedy ;  the  Greeks  must  ally 
themselves  together  and  accept  the  hegemony  that  would  be  neces- 
sary, "Which  state  was  to  lead?  Sparta  was  coarse,  unlettered, 
tyrannical,  dangerous  to  every  one.  Thebes  was  still  worse.  Athens 
was  fitted  for  the  noble  career  that  in  times  gone  by  she  had  so  glori- 
ously followed.  If  she  had  lost  standing,  it  was  because  in  her 
internal  administration  she  had  given  herself  to  a  false  democracy, 
to  the  tyranny  of  demagogues,  who  owed  their  power  to  the  evil  pas- 
sions of  the  state  and  preyed  upon  its  miseries.  Furthermore,  she 
had  wished  to  govern  an  empire  by  force,  and  had  not  showed  toward 
her  allies  the  all-important  policy  of  moderation  (o-ox^poo-wr;),  neces- 
sary in  cities  as  in  individuals.  By  her  faults,  she  had  excited 
^  ^  against  herself  violent  animosities.  It  was  not  needful  to  recap- 
A*  ture  Amphipolis,  but  to  practise  justice  and  win  the  anectiQu  of  the 
other  Greeks.  Isocrates  long  hoped  to  bring  Athens  back  to  the 
constitution  of  Solon,  to  the  virtues  of  a  golden  age  that  had  never 
existed.  As  his  hope  was  slow  of  realization,  he  turned  to  other 
devices.  Perlrapsrhe"had  in  mTndT5Iohy sius  of  Sy racuseT^and  later 
Jason  of  Pherae.  These  gave~HTm  no  hope  and  he  turned  to  PEilip, 
in  whom  he  saw  the  long-awaited  chief  that  should  bring  about  the 
peaceful  union  of  Greece  and  assure  her  triumph  oyer,  barbarism, 
^'^e  did  not  suppose  for  an  instant  that  Philip,  so  cultured,  so  clever 
Sin  philosophy,  could  have  a  soul  less  pure  than  his  own.  In  all  his 
i*  political  theories,  he  is  truthful  to  detail;  his  criticism  of  Athenian 
politics,  at  home  and  abroad,  is  often  penetrating.  The  picture  of 
the  different  Greek  cities  is  drawn  with  skill ;  the  real  weakness 
of  the  Great  King  is  forcibly  pointed  out ;  and  above  all,  the  general 
sentiment  of  Isocrates,  his  Athenian  and  pan-Hellenic  patriotism, 
and  his  faith  in  morals  as  the  foundation  of  politics,  are  worthy  of 
the  most  sympathetic  adniiration.  The  mistake  of  the  gr«at  advo- 
cate of  patriotism  was  that,  in  his^iiriJpss^nptimisnx^  he  thought  only 
of  remedies  that  were  wojthless  or  even  dangerous.  To  propose  to 
the  Athenians  of  the  fourth  century  a  return  to  the  constitution  of 
Solon  was  a  pure  chimera;  but  to  ask  them  to  accept  Philip  as  their 
chief  was  a  still  graver  error.  All  the  orator's  honesty  could  not 
make  it  excusable. 

As  Isocrates  reformed  declamatory  eloquence  in  the  substance  of 
its  ideas,  so  he  reformed  it  in  style  and  invention.  Gorgias  had 
soiiglit  beauty  of  discourse  principally  in  dazzling  brilliance  of 
words  and  the  jingle  of  phrases.  Isocrates,  an  Athenian  and  a  disci- 
ple of  Socrates,  sought  it  chiefly  in  harmdhiou'sconnectfon  of  thought 
and  in  subordination  of  details  to  the  whole.l    The  words  in  this 


Attic  Oratory  365 

system  were  not  to  attract  attention.  )  Like  Lysias,  he  wrote  the 
language  of  the  people,  the  purest  Attic.  He  excluded  the  artihcial  and 
poetic~terms  "thathad  been  so  dear  to  the  scho<2L.Qf..JSfirgias.  (_^  He 
had  few  images  or  bold  metaphors.^  He  aimed  chiefly  at  delicate 
exactness  and  a  grandeur  arising  naturally  from  the  general  trend 
oFlhe  ideas.  The-words  must  be  pleasing  to  the  ear  and  in  proper  " 
rhythm.  They  must  be  put  together  smoothly,  so  as  to  form  flowing 
and  harmonious  phrases.  Hence  there  could  be  no  hiatus.  For 
him,  this  wholly  new  rule  was  absolute.  He  observed  it  rigorously. 
It  seemed  so  just  to  his  auditors  that  from  then  on  every  one  in 
Greece  observed  it  more  or  less.  It  was  a  veritable  revolution  in 
Greek  prose.  But  above  all,  the  sentence-structure  was  changed. 
The  oldest  prose  writers  were  content  in  general  to  put  short  phrases 
side  by  side,  without  organizing  them  into  a  whole.  Gorgias  had 
tried  to  couple  them  two  and  two  by  oppositions  ;  but  his  procedure 
was  monotonous.  The  long  phrases  of  Thucydides  were  often  awk- 
ward and  cumbersome.  Lysias  had  created  a  flexible  and  vivid,  but 
short  period,  more  appropriate  to  current  affairs  than  to  the  orotundv 
expression  of  general  truths.  TsBcrates  is  the  inventor  of  the  long  \ 
oratorical  period,  which  is  both  unified  and  complex,  bringing  together  \ 
in  the  sweep  of  a  single  sentence  numerous  particular  ideas  that  are  >* 
grouped  around  a  principal  one.  Such  a  period  adds  to  an  intrinsic 
force  of  thought  the  powerful  efficacy  of  a  large  and  impressive 
Qf^lQrip..'},]  rhj^hm  Some  of  the  periods  of  Isocrates  are  a  page  in 
length;  maAy  cover  half  a  page.  But  the  length  of  tlie  sentence 
never  detracts  from  its  clearness  and  lucid  neatness.  The  imagina- 
tion is  aroused  by  an  ample  system  of  thoughts  so  easy  to  follow. 
Sometimes  series  of  syllables  that  are  alike  in  prosody  correspond  to 
each  other  so  that  their  echo  emphasizes  the  unity  of  the  rhythm. 
But  as  a  rule,  he  avoids  too  complete  similarity  as  likely  to  be  me- 
chanical and  artificial.  He  perceived  the  defect  of  Gorgias  in 
making  his  cadences  too  uniform.  He  sought  always  for  variety 
and  flexibility.  HisJongjoHiotls  are  admirable  works  of  art,  charm- 
ing the  ear  and  the  intelligence^and  giving  the  effect  of  oratorical 
power  without~the~impression  of  effort.  There  is  the  same  care  in 
the  general  composition  of  the  discourses.  Like  Socrates,  lie  aims 
to  define  his  subject  clearly.  He  includes  both  the  whole  and  its 
parts.  Even  when  he  seems  to  dally  with  digressions,  he  knows 
that  he  is  doing  so,  and  never  loses  sight  of  his  goal.  He  often  ex- 
pressed his  wish  for  a  type  of  composition  at  once  flexible  and  firm.^ 
The  perfection  of  his  art  of_writing  gives  thej;eader  at  fixst  a 
keen  pleasure;  its lucid~'fulness  is  delightful.  Many  of  the  sen- 
1  See,  for  example,  Antidosis,  11. 


366  Ch^eek  Literature 

tences  attain  the  highest  eloquence  ;  and  yet  in  the  end,  one  grows 
fatigued,    j"  Continuous  eloquence  cloys ;  '5  that  "Of  "Tsocrates  is  too 
continuous,"  too  perfect.     It_lacks_the  element  of  the  unforeseen, 
the  variety  given  by  artless,  sincere  digressions,  the  vivid  irregu- 
larity of  passion.     There  is  too  much  preparation  in  his  faultless 
style.     The  defect  comes  from  a  morbid  concern  of  the  writer  for 
his  artistic  glory  —  tKe  concern  of  Ihe" virtub^iS'inTanguage.     One  is 
vexed  at  finding  a  rhetorician  where  one  is  seeking^^  finda,  man. 
He  himself  avows  that  the  peace  of  346,  between  Athens  and  Philip, 
was  made  before  he  finished  the  oration  in  which  he  intended  to 
advocate  its  measures.^     He  cannot  sacrifice  perfection  of  phrase  to 
efficacy  of  political  action.     This  injures  his  style  without  his  know- 
ing it.     His  vanity  as  an  author  often  becomes  evident  in  the  most 
undisguised  and  artless  manner.     His  orations  are.. fined_ with  his 
^   own.j3raise.     He  sings  his  own  eulogies,  and  occasionally  repeats 
\  eulogies  of  himself  made  by  others.     He  preaches  to  his  rivals  with 
J  an  air  of  offensive  self-sufficiency.     In  short,  every  forni  of  literary 
*^  vanity,  even  pedantry,  is  found  in  him.     This  secret  fault  hindered 
him  from  being  the  unequalled  orator  that  he  pretended  to  be^ 

Such  are  the  merits  and  defects  found  in  all  his  orations,  with 
shades  of  difference  due  to  time  and  circumstance.  The  differences 
are  not  really  important,  if  one  disregards  certain  works  of  his  youth 
as  being  mere  tentative  essays.  In  the  first  period,  extending  from 
about  390  to  380,  he  undertook  to  treat  in  his  own  way  the  iraiyvLov, 
that  witticism  so  dear  to  the  sophists.  He  composed  eulogies  of 
Helen  and  Busiris,  trying  to  put  into  these  paradoxes  more  serious- 
ness than  his  predecessors  had  given  them.  The  attempt  could  not 
be  wholly  successful.  The  two  exhortations  composed  for  Xicocles, 
king  of  Cyprus,  belong  to  the  same  transition  period,  and  are  like- 
wise works  of  the  second  order. 

\  The  series  of  great  works  begins  in  380  with  i\\Q  J^oMUUds^ii-^ 
Isocrates  read  it  at  the  Olympic  festival.  In  it  he  celebrates  Athens, 
demanding  for  her  the  liegemony  against  the  Persians.  It  is  one 
of  his  finest  orations.  The  Platceica,  doul)tless  published  soon  after 
the  capture  of  Platiea  by  the  Tliebans  in  373,  lias  the  form  of  a 
judicial  discourse.  The  orator  recounts  for  the  Athenians  the  mis- 
eries they  have  suffered,  and  ])oints  out  the  injustice  of  the  con- 
querors. P)etween  350  and  3")0,  we  have  two  orations  that  are 
deliberative.  They  arc  On  the  Peace,  in  which  he  sets  forth  his  views 
on  the  sea-power  of  Attica;  and  the  Arco)>ar/itica,  in  which  he 
treats  of  the  internal  constitution  of  A'flienit  In  the  Archiddmns 
he  supposes  that  the  Spartan  king  of  that  name  lays  before  the 

1  Philip.  7. 


Attic  Oratory  367 

senate  of  Lacedsemon  the  necessity  of  resistance  to  Thebes,  which  had 
conquered  Sparta.  In  the  Antidosis  he  pretends  to  defend  himself 
in  court  against  a  certain  Lysimachus,  who  really  had  brought  a  suit 
against  him  relative  to  a  trierarchy.  In  it  he  presents  to  the  Athe- 
nian public  a  complete  picture  of  his  life  (354).  In  346  he  wrote 
About  Philip,  exhorting  the  king  of  Macedon  to  become  the  chief  of 
the  (jr reeks  against  the  barbarians.  Finally,  in  339  he  wrote  the 
Panathenaica,  in  which  he  comes  back  again  to  eulogy  of  Athens  as 
in  the  Panegyricus.  He  declares  with  emphasis  that  he  no  longer 
aims  at  the  same  splendor  of  eloquence  as  formerly ;  but  it  is 
difficult  to  see  wherein  his  pretensions  to  simplicity  are  justified. 

8.  His  Theory  of  Education.^  —  Oratory,  in  this  sense,  did  not 
have  as  its  sole  object,  in  his  thought,  the  composition  of  discourses ; 
it  was  also  a  means  of  education.  All  thinking  men,  ever  since  the 
middle  of  the  fifth  century,  acknowledged  the  need  of  adding  to  the 
elementary  instruction  given  to  children  in  regular  schools  a  form 
of  higher  instruction  suitable  to  prepare  young  men  specifically  for 
citizenship.  Sophists  and  philosophers  tried  to  solve  the  problem 
each  in  his  own  way.  Public  favor  was  divided  between  the  purely 
practical  rhetoric  of  the  successors  of  Corax  and  Tisias,  eristic,  the 
reading  of  the  poets,  orations  on  various  subjects,  and  the  dialectic 
of  the  Socratic  schools,  each  of  which  was  a  method  of  instruction. 
In  an  oration  Against  the  Sophists,  Isocrates,  at  the  very  beginning 
of  his  pedagogical  career,  made  war  upon  the  methods  of  his  rivals, 
and  extolled  his  own  theory.  The  discourse  is,  unfortunately,  muti- 
lated. But  if  one  adds  the  notices  scattered  by  Isocrates  in  his  other 
works,  one  sees  that  he  had  a  carefully  thought  out  and  very  definite 
system,  largely  original. 

In  his  eyes,  a  man  is  not  "  well  cultured  "  (TreTraiBevfxivos)  who  ex- 
cels in  a  particular  art  or  science ;  but  he  needs  to  jjossess  sound  judg- 
ment, a  just  and  firm  spirit,  and  complete  control  of  himself.*  These 
qualities  are  partly  natural  and  partly  the  result  of  education.  Some 
teach  their  pupils  geometry,  astronomy,  and  music  ;  this  is  a  useful 
education,  but  only  preparatory.  On  the  other  hand,  the  pretended 
science  of  the  ancient  philosophers  is  nothing  but  contradiction  and 
idle  fancy.  The  explanation  of  the  poets  is  difficult  and  rarely  well 
done.  The  teachers  of  rhetoric  mock  at  truth,  and  so  are  charlatans. 
Those  of  eristic  and  dialectic,  though  honest  and  sincere,  entangle 
themselves  in  useless  subtleties.  ^Morals  and  polities  are  7io  field  for 
rigorous  science,  in  the  Platonic  sense  of  the  term  ;  on  such  subjects 

1  Cf.  r.  Giranl.  U Education  athenienne  au  V'  ct  an  VI  sierle.  Paris,  1889, 
p.  310  ff. 

^  I'anathen.  30-32. 


368  Greek  Literature 

there  can  be  only  opinions,  good  or  bad.  Hence  it  is  on  practical 
matters  chiefly  that  instruction  in  true  "  philosophy  "  should  be  based. 
One  must  both  construct  a  theory  and  make  the  application  of 
it.  The  true  philosopher,  who  is  at  the  same  time  a  professor  of 
rhetoric,  teaches  his  pupils  by  his  own  example,  by  the  analysis 
of  what  he  performs  before  them,  and  by  the  efforts  which  he 
causes  them  to  make,  to  analyze  and  handle  their  ideas.  He  con- 
strains them  to  write  on  serious  subjects,  just  as  he  does.  At  the  end 
of  three  or  four  years  of  theoretical  and  practical  education,  the  young 
man  may  enter  upon  life  trained  to  think  and  write.  The  last  pages 
of  the  Panathenaica  propound  in  a  most  curious  way  what  may  be 
called  the  method  of  Isocrates.  One  of  his  auditors  is  supposed  to 
be  offended  with  certain  of  his  opinions  concerning  Lacedaemon. 
A  courteous  discussion  takes  place,  and  Isocrates  makes  manifest 
the  basis  of  his  opinions.  Thus  he  has  given  his  pupils  a  lesson  in 
history  and  politics  in  connection  with  one  in  style. 

This  method  of  education  is  too  much  like  that  now  pursued  not 
to  make  us  sensible  of  the  measure  of  truth  it  contains.  Moreover, 
we  must  admit  that,  in  practice,  it  will  have  always  a  value  exactly 
proportional  to  the  degree  of  scientifica^it  which  the  teacher's 
personality  can  put  into  it.  With  Isocrates,  it  is  to  be  feared  that 
rhetoric,  with  its  vagueness  and  unconscious  deception,  too  often  was 
given  the  first  place. 

On  the  whole,  Isocrates  has  been  very  diversely  judged.  Cicero ' 
and  his  school  admired  him  greatly  ;  Fenelon  found  him  unbearable. 
Indeed,  there  is  in  him  both  good  and  bad.  ^is  greatest  merit  is 
that  of  having  made  possible  the  oratory  of  Demosthenes^  Unfor- 
tunately, he  so  charmed  Greece  by  the  music  of  his  language  that  he 
often  caused  his  successors  to  consider  such  music  aU-aufiGicient.  In 
good  and  in  evil,  his  influence  was  profound ;  and  prose  style  after 
his  time  was  usually  different  from  what  it'had  been  before.' 

9.  Political  Oratory :  General  View.  —  It  is  not  until  the  middle 
of  the  fourth  centur}-,  during  the  last  twenty  years  of  the  life  of  Isoc- 
rates that  strictly  political  oratory  finally  obtained  its  place  in  litera- 
ture. Circumstances  were  then  i)articularly  favorable  for  its  rise.  It 
was  the  time  when  Macedon  began  to  threaten  Greece  and  Athens. 
A  grave  problem  presented  itself  before  the  people  :  must  Philip  be 

'•  Among  the  rivals  of  Isocrates,  the  onlj-  one  that  we  need  mention  is  Alcid- 
anias,  whose  curious  oratinn.  On  the  S'>phis(s,  we  possess.  He  reproaches 
Isocrates  with  trainiui:  men  to  l)e  writers  rather  than  orators.  Yet  even  he  felt 
the  influence  of  his  adversary.  It  was  Alcidamas  who  composed  the  elejiant 
dictum  cited  by  Aristotle  :  ••  All  men  are  created  free  by  Heaven  ;  nature  brings 
furtii  none  to  slavery."  (Ari.stoile,  liltft.  I,  i;5.  with  the  scholium.)  The  text 
of  Alcidamas  can  be  consulted  in  Bekker's  Attic  Orators;  it  is  also  edited  by 
Bla.-s,  witli  his  A)tliphon. 


Attic  Oratory  369 

regarded  as  an  irreconcilable  enemy  or  merely  adroitly  managed  ?  A 
throng  of  orators  arose  to  maintain  each  thesis.  There  was  speaking 
before  the  assembly,  speaking  before  the  embassies ;  speaking,  also, 
before  the  courts,  to  bring  charges  of  accusation,  or  defend  oneself 
against  them.  The  political  struggles,  in  Athenian  practice,  often 
had  their  epilogues  in  the  courts.  The  tragic  importance  of  such 
debates,  however,  would  not  have  sufficed  to  create  written  political 
oratory,  the  only  form  belonging  to  literature,  had  not  wholly  new 
conditions  then  been  brought  about,  for  the  first  time,  such  as  the 
existence  of  orators  capable  of  finding  their  inspiration,  pen  in 
hand,  and  the  existence  of  a  public  capable  of  reading  written  dis- 
courses with  interest.  Nothing  is  better  known  or  oftener  noticed 
than  the  difference  between  speaking  well  and  writing  well.  Vehe- 
mence and  animation,  the  very  soul  of  political  oratory,  run  the 
risk  of  extinction  in  the  silent  labor  of  the  pen,  unless,  indeed,  the 
pen  write  very  vividly.  On  the  other  hand,  what  need  is  there  of 
revising  discourses,  if  they  have  already  produced  their  effect  on  the 
rostrum  and  the  public  is  not  to  read  them,  t^emosthenes,  in  writ- 
ing his  political  orations,  performed  more  than  the  work  of  a  man 
of  letters;  he  proposed  to  extend  and  fortify  the  influence  of  his 
discourses.\  Written  discourse  was  for  him  a  sort  of  journalism 
appropriate  to  Greek  customs.  But  all  the  conditions  favoring  it 
were  not  found  united  until  after  long  practice  in  the  art  by  the 
logographers  and  by  Isocrates  —  not  until  twenty  or  thirty  years  of 
political  and  philosophical  discourses  had  accustomed  both  the  ora- 
tors and  the  public  to  employ  the  general  ideas  which  form  the  basis 
of  current  politics,  and  to  relish  them  in  written  form.  Even  in' 
this  period,  not  all  the  great  orators  wrote  their  speeches.  Neither 
Phocion  nor  Demades  left  behind  them  anything  but  the  recollec- 
tion of  their  careers  and  demeanor  on  the  rostrum,  and  a  few  words 
engraved,  so  to  speak,  on  the  memory  of  their  contemporaries.^  But 
from  these  words  we  can  form  no  judgment,  as  they  do  not  belong  to 
literature  proi^or.  We  must  be  content  with  saying  that  Phocion, 
tlie  man  wlior.i  Demosthenes  called  the  '-hatchet"  of  his  orations,- 
spent  his  life  bravely  waging  war  as  a  general  while  advocating 
peace.  He  opposed  the  war  party  because  he  believed  his  countr}-- 
men  incapable  of  making  headway  against  Macedon.  Hyperides 
asked  him,  one  day,  how  soon  he  would  be  willing  to  advocate  the 
war,  and  he  replied  :  "  I  am  waiting  until  the  young  men  are  willing 
to  take  the  field,  the  rich  to  pay  their  war  tax,  and  the  orators  to 
cease  plundering  the  people."     He  despised  the  rabble.     One  day, 

^  Some  fragments  of  Demades  can  be  fouud  iu  Blass's  edition  of  Dinarchus. 
2  Dem.  X,  2. 
2b 


370  Greek  Literature 

when  the  people  applauded  him,  he  turned  about  toward  his  friends 
and  asked :  "  Is  it  some  foolishness  I  have  uttered  ?  "  Demades, 
the  son  of  a  boatman,  without  education  or  manners,  is  the  very 
opposite  of  this  severe,  haughty  aristocrat,  and  his  brief,  cutting  elo- 
quence. The  two  have  no  common  trait  but  that  of  having  opposed 
Demosthenes.  Demades  was  in  the  pay  of  Macedon,  and  did  not 
conceal  the  fact.  He  was  a  drinker,  a  high  liver,  an  idler,  and  a 
matchless  improviser.  Plutarch  pretends,  and  not  improbably,  that 
his  improvised  discourse,  so  full  of  spirit,  imagination,  and  wit,  often 
carried  away  like  a  torrent  the  carefully  formed  periods  of  Demos- 
thenes. Among  the  orators  who  wrote  their  speeches,  none  confined 
himself  strictly  to  political  oratory.  Several  were  logographers  as 
well  as  politicians,  and  most  of  them  wrote  on  politics  only  for 
judicial  debates.^  Yet  politics  was  their  principal  source  of  inspira- 
tion, and  this  is  their  novel  feature.  Demosthenes  and  J^schines, 
Hyperides  and  Lycurgus,  notwithstanding  the  diversity  of  their 
works,  are  essentially  political.  Pen  in  hand,  they  were  all  great 
orators,  clever  in  the  management  of  general  ideas  and  the  mastery 
of  words.  What  caused  differences  of  degree  between  them  is  even 
more  a  matter  of  geniiis  than  of  talent. 

10.  Demosthenes;  his  Life  and  Career.^ — Demosthenes  is  undoubt- 
edly the  chief  among  this  group  of  writers.  He  towers  high  above 
all  the  others,  owing  to  an  excellence  of  political  oratory  which  makes 
him  perhaps  the  greatest  political  speaker  of  all  time. 

He  was  born  at  Athens  in  t384,  in  the  deme  of  Pa?ania.  At.seven,  he 
lost  his  father,  a  rich  manufacturer  of  arms,  who  left  the  children  a 
considerable  heritage.  Paithless  guardians  wasted  it.  The  delicate 
orphan  was  brought  up  with  a  younger  sister  by  their  mother.  At 
eighteen  he  came  of  age,  and  finding  himself  grown  to  manhood, 

1  We  have,  indeed,  in  the  way  of  regular  political  addresses  reduced  to 
writing,  only  those  of  Demosthenes,  and  two  or  three  others  incorporated  with 
his  wf)rks,  but  of  unknown  origin. 

'^  Hiiii.iooii.vi'iiv  :  Complete  editions  by  TJeiske,  Bekker,  and  TJaiter  and 
Sauppe  in  tlieir  Oratores  Attici ;  by  Vomel  (l)idot  Collection.  1843)  ;  and  by 
Dindorf-Blass,  Teubner,  1885.  The  riiilippica  and  leading  political  orations 
by  H.  Weil,  I'aris.  Hachette,  187:3-188().  Nine  Philippics  by  Kehdantz-Blass, 
Teubner,  1890-1890  ;  Select  Privatp  Orntion.i,  by  Paley  and  Sandys,  2  vols., 
Cambridge,  188(!  ;  Leptinps,  by  Sandys,  Cambridge,  18!)()  ;  De  Corona,  with 
notes  and  essays,  by  W.  W.  Goodwin,  Cambridge,  University  Press,  lUDl. 

French  translation  complete  by  Stievenart,  Paris,  1842  ;  French  translation 
of  the  political  orations  by  Plougoulm,  Paris,  18(31-1804;  and  of  the  civil  ora- 
tions by  II.  Dareste,  Paris,  Plon.  1875  and  1879,  4  vols.,  with  introductions  and 
good  notes.  English  translation  by  Kennedy,  London,  Bell,  1889.  Index  De- 
moslhenicum,  by  Preuss,  Teubner,  1892. 

Consult :  A.  Schiifer,  DunoHth'-nps  und  seine  Zeit,  3  vols.,  Leipsic,  1850- 
1858,  a  splendid  work;  and  vol.  Ill  of  Bla.ss,  Die  attische  Beredsamkeit ; 
L.  Bredif.  IJ I^loquence  politique  en  Grece,  Paris,  Hachette,  1880  ;  Butcher, 
Demoftlif-nes,  New  York,  Appleton,  1882. 


Attic  Oratory  371 

resolved,  though  still  in  feeble  health,  that  he  would  obtain  justice. 
Three  years  were  spent  in  parley  and  preliminary  discussions. 
Meanwhile  he  studied  oratory  and  politics  in  the  school  of  Isaeus. 
When  the  matter  came  before  the  courts,  in  363,  he  pleaded  his  own 
case,  and  showed  himself  a  great  orator.  He  won ;  but  renewed 
pettifogging  obliged  him  to  come  into  court  again.  He  did  not 
achieve  his  purpose  for  two  or  three  years,  when  he  won  definitively, 
though  he  was  almost  ruined.  He  had  only  the  advantage  of  being 
prepared  henceforth  for  any  judicial  action  whatsoever. 

Tradition  has  it  that  he  was  attracted  to  the  rostrum  early  in  life, 
but  that,  at  first,  all  his  efforts  failed :  his  voice  was  weak,  his^ 
pronunciation  indistinct,  his  gestures  inadeg[uate.  But  an  old  man 
who  had.  heard  l*ericles  told  the  young  aspirant  that  no  one  reminded, 
him  more  of  that  great  orator ;  and  the  tragedian  Satyrus  offered  to 
give  him  lessons  in  elocution.  Demosthenes,  with  his  stubborn  will, 
undertook  to  remodel  this  nature.  One  reads  in  Plutarch  the  well- 
known  but  partly  legendary  account  of  the  exercises  he  practised  to 
attain  his  end :  tl>e  pebbles  he  took  into  his  mouth  to  force  himself 
to  pronounce  well,  his  discourses  spoken  in  the  face  of  boisterous  ^7r'> 
waves,  and  the  grotto  where  he  shut  himself  in  for  work4  At  the 
same  time  he  studied  the  poets  and  prose-writers,  and  especially  the 
orators.  He  familiarized  himself  with  poetry;  and  though  we  need 
not  believe  that,  with  his  own  hands,  he  copied  Thucydides  entire 
eight  times,  as  was  reported  by  later  accounts,  yet  it  is  certain  that 
he  read  that  author  carefully  and  with  profit. 

»  As  he  was  obliged  to  earn  a  livelihood,  he  became  a  logographer. 
It  was  an  excellent  apprenticeship  in  public  affairs,  and  a  means  of 
studying  politics.  Three  of  his  oldest  political  pleas.  Against  Andro- 
tion  (355),  Against  Timocrates,  and  Against  Aristocrates  (352),  were 
written  by  him  in  the  capacity  of  a  logographer.  He  practised  that 
profession  a  long  time ;  for  even  as  late  as  345,  /Eschines  re- 
proached him  with  composing  speeches  for  others  and  teaching 
pupils.  Probably  he  renounced  this  altogether  only  when  he  was 
about  to  come  into  power,  in  344  or  343. 

He  had  not  waited  till  then  to  deal  with  politics  proper.  In  355 
or  354  he  figured  as  auxiliary  (o-uvr/yopos)  of  the  prosecution  in  the 
political  trial  against  Leptines,  which  proves  that  his  rei)utation  was 
no  longer  confined  to  the  narrow  circle  of  private  interests.  His 
oration  On  the  Symmories  (354)  and  that  For  the  Megalopolitans  (353) 
are  real  harangues.  Two  years  later,  in  351,  he  composed  the  First 
Philijypic.  He  was  then  but  thirty-two  years  old,  though  already  in 
full  possession  of  his  powers.     His  great  political  career  had  begun. 

It  naturally  divides  into  three  periods.     In  the  first,  from  351  to 


372  Greek  Literature 

340,  lie  is  an  orator  of  the  opposition.  The  peace  party  is  in  power, 
and  he  struggles  against  it  tenaciously,  except  for  a  few  temporary 
efforts  at  reconciliation,  due  to  patriotism.  It  is  the  period  of  the 
great  political  discourses  that  slowly  established  his  reputation  and 
brought  him  to  the  first  rank.  In  the  second  period,  from  340  to 
338,  he  is  the  chief  of  the  party  in  power.  He  directs  the  struggle 
against.Philip;  and  no  longer  writes  his  orations.  Perhaps  the  time 
for  doing  so  was  wanting ;  and  besides,  having  the  ear  of  the  assem- 
bly, he  no  longer  felt  the  need  of  doing  so.  In  the  last  period,  after 
the  battle  of  Chaeronea  had  reduced  Athens  to  inactivity,  the  ros- 
trum no  longer  gave  him  occasion  to  exhort  the  people.  He  belonged 
to  the  vanquished  party,  and  was  without  hope  of  changing  the 
course  of  affairs,  particularly  after  the  appearance  of  Alexander  and 
the  ruin  of  Thebes.  All  he  could  do  was  to  defend  himself  against 
the  attacks  of  his  enemies,  first  in  the  trial  for  the  crown,  where  he 
triumphed  over  iEschines  (330),  and  then  in  the  sad  affair  of  Har- 
palus  (324),  when  he  was  defeated.  The  affair  of  the  crown  origi-  v 
nated  in  a  decree  passed  on  the  proposition  of  Ctesiphon  in  337,  \ 
after  the  battle  of  Chseronea,  to  award  to  Demosthenes  a  golden/'^ 
crown  as  a  national  vote  of  thanks  for  the  patriotism  with  which 
he  had  spent  part  of  his  fortune  in  restoring  the  fortifications 
of  Athens.  The  author  of  the  decree  was  immediately  accused  by 
iEschines  of  illegal  procedure;  but  the  matter  could  not  then  come 
before  the  courts,  owing  to  political  events.  Philip  was  assassinated 
in  336;  and  Demosthenes,  notwithstanding  the  recent  death  of  his 
daughter,  appeared  in  public  crowned  with  flowers.  The  joy  of  the 
patriots  was  short;  Demosthenes  had  persuaded  the  Thebans  to  take 
up  arms  anew,  but  the  swiftness  of  Alexander  thwarted  the  efforts 
of  the  Greeks.  Thebes  was  taken  and  destroyed  ;  ten  Athenian  ora- 
tors, including  Demosthenes  and  Lycurgus,  were  to  be  delivered  to 
the  king  of  Macedon,  and  were  saved  only  by  the  intervention  of 
Demades.  "When  Alexander  had  gone  to  Asia,  Athens  was  again 
able  to  deal  with  her  domestic  troubles  and  the  process  of  the  crown 
was  finally  terminated.  It  was  the  strife  of  two  political  parties,  not 
merely  that  of  two  orators.  An  immense  crowd  came  from  every 
quarter  to  be  present.  ^Eschines  was  defeated  and  left  Athens, 
never  to  return.  Demosthenes  was  again  triumphant.  On  the  con- 
trary, the  very  obscure  affair  of  Harpalus  was  a  disaster.  Harpalus 
was  a  commissary  of  Alexander  at  Susa.  When  his  master  appeared 
to  be  lost  in  the  depths  of  India,  he  profited  by  his  absence  to  plun- 
der the  royal  treasury.  When  Alexander  reappeared,  Harpalus  fled 
with  five  thousand  talents  and  six  thousand  men,  came  to  Athens,  and 
requested  that  the  city  receive  him.     The  over-enthusiastic  patriots 


Attic  Oratory  373 

seconded  the  request ;  but  Demosthenes  brought  about  its  rejection. 
Harpalus  then  disbanded  his  troops  and  came  to  Athens  as  a  suppli- 
ant. The  city  received  him.  Immediately  Alexander  demanded  his 
extradition.  Demosthenes  obtained  a  decree  by  which,  before  the 
trial  occurred,  the  fugitive  should  be  put  in  prison,  and  his  money 
deposited  on  the  Acropolis.  A  little  time  after,  Harpalus  escaped, 
and  it  was  noticed  that  half  of  the  money  had  disappeared.  Demos- 
thenes, who  had  been  one  of  the  commissioners  appointed  to  keep 
guard,  became  the  object  of  the  most  furious  attacks.  The  friends 
of  Macedon  united  with  the  patriots  against  him.  He  was_accused 
of  taking  bribes,  and  condemned  to  pay  a  fine  of  fifty  talents.  Not_ 
,bfiing  ableto-raiae  so Terrormgus^a  siirajTie  was  jTiit  in~|)rison;_but  he 
was  not  long  in  making  his  escape.  The.,  next_year Alexander  died 
(323).  The  national  party,  in  its  joy,  forgot  its  earlier  troubles,  and 
Demosthenes  came  back  in  triumph.  Already  the  Greek  cities  were 
preparing  to  throw  off  the  yoke  of  Macedon.  An  Athenian -.army 
niarched  to  mosj.  Antipater.«^  It  Avas  cru3he.d,  at  Crannon  (322). 
After  that  all  was  lost.  Demosthenes,  proscribed  by  Antipater, 
reached  the  island  of  Calauria.  He  was  followed,  and  found  in  the 
temple  of  Poseidon.  There  he  brought  a  poisoned  dagger  to  his 
mouth,  and  then,  advancing  a  few  steps  toward  the  soldiers,  he  fell 
dead  (322).  One  may  say  literally  that,  after  having  been  for  thirty  ^ 
years  the  most  dangerous  adversary  of  Macedon,  he  took  with  him  ,- 
to  the  tomb  the  liberty  of  Athens  and  of  Greece.  y 

Under  his  name,  we  have  sixty  orations,  besides  a  collection  of 
exordiums  aijd  six  letters.  This  is  the  larger  part  of  what  the 
ancients  possessed.  However,  it  is  not  all  authentic.  About  twenty 
orations,  chiefly  civil  pleas,  must  be  rejected  as  certainly  apocryphal, 
or  at  least  doubtful.  Yet  the  works  which  are  above  suspicion 
form  a  considerable  body,  enabling  us  to  know  the  author  as  a  states- 
man and  as  an  orator.  There  are  harangues,  political  orations,  and 
civil  orations  among  them.  Of  the  last,  which  belong  to  the  first 
period  of  his  life,  we  shall  say  but  little ;  for,  whatever  their  merit 
or  interest,  it  is  not  as  a  logographer  that  we  can  really  know  Demos- 
thenes. 

11.  Pleas  of  Demosthenes  in  Civil  Cases.  —  Yet  there  are  impor- 
tant differences  among  those  orations  that  can  be  grouped  together 
as  civil  pleas.  Certain  orations  composed  against  his  guardians, 
Aphobus  and  Onetor,  form  a  class  by  themselves.  Here  he  did  not 
act  as  a  logographer,  but  spoke  in  his  own  name,  without  veil  of  any 
sort ;  and,  if  it  is  not  yet  his  whole  power  that  he  reveals,  it  is  at 
least  a  characteristic  portrait  of  himself,  with  many  of  the  essential 
features  of  his  moral  nature  and  even  of  his  genius.     These  five  ora- 


374  Greek  Literature 

tions  pertain  to  three  distinct  affairs,  of  which  the  last  two  spring 
successively  from  the  first.  They  are  made  up  of  an  exposition  of 
facts  and  some  discussion.  The  exposition  is  minute  and  precise, 
like  the  later  study  of  ways  and  means  in  the  harangues.  There  is 
nothing  of  the  sycophant  or  the  fine  writer  in  them.  The  discussion 
is  logical  and  clever ;  the  style  sober,  aiming  to  convince  rather  than 
to  excite,  and  fully  animate  at  times  with  passion,  even  in  the  midst 
of  argument.  If  the  youth  of  the  orator  is  anywhere  evident,  it  is 
in  the  perorations,  which  are  somewhat  fuller  in  words  and  stylistic 
effects  than  those  of  the  later  period.  What  is  chiefly  noticeable 
is  the  serious  depth  of  soul  in  the  young  man,  his  violent,  passionate 
will,  and  the  vigorous  intelligence  that  he  reveals  from  the  first. 

The  other  pleas  which  have  been  preserved  belong  to  a  considera- 
bly later  period.  They  are  contemporary  with  the  first  political  ora- 
tions. He  was  then  enjoying  his  full  reputation  as  a  logographer, 
and  some  of  these  pleas  are  real  masterpieces  of  their  kind.  Some- 
times we  have  striking  pictures  of  Athenian  life,  as  in  the  plea  For 
Phonnio,  that  concise  history  of  a  family  of  bankers,  in  which,  in 
the  first  generation,  a  barbarian  slave,  ill  able  to  talk  Greek,  yet  in- 
telligent and  honest,  is  freed  by  his  master,  associated  with  him  in 
his  affairs,  and  made  by  marriage  a  member  of  his  family.  Then  the 
children,  who  are  born  in  luxury,  are  forgetful  of  their  origin,  and 
become  insolent  and  debauched.  In  the  plea  Against  Conon,  we  have 
the  story  of  the  misadventures  of  a  good  though  timid  man,  left, 
during  his  military  service,  to  the  mercy  of  a  band  of  wretches,  who 
were  his  comrades.  We  find  the  same  thing  in  the  amusing  discus- 
sion of  two  neighbors  in  the  country  {Against  Callides),  each  of  whom 
wished  that  a  stream  of  water,  having  the  public  road  as  its  bed,  and 
transformed  into  a  torrent  by  every  heavy  rain,  should  overflow  the 
other's  property.  There  is  in  all  this  a  cleverness  and  charm  which 
one  is  almost  astonished  to  find  in  Demosthenes.  One  seems  at 
times  to  be  reading  Lysias  or  Isaeus.  Nothing  shows  better  how 
imperious  were  the  rules  of  oratorical  composition.  One  feels  what 
a  rigorous  gymnastic  exercise  it  was  for  the  future  orator  to  compel 
his  stubborn  nature  to  adapt  itself  readily  thereto.  But  one  sees  also 
why  it  is  not  in  these  orations  that  we  find  Demosthenes  at  his 
best. 

12.  His  Political  Oratory  ;  his  Characteristics  as  an  Orator  and  a 
Statesman.  —  The  real  Demosthenes,  in  the  eyes  of  posterity,  is  the 
orator  who,  for  thirty  years,  kept  up  the  combat  against  Macedon, 
and  was,  as  it  were,  the  last  great  incarnation  of  patriotism  in 
Athens.  His  oratory  is  the  voice  of  a  heroic  s])irit,  taking  up  and 
su.staining  its  cause  with  incomparable  skill.     Hence  its  unequalled 


Attic  Oratory         '  375 

literary  beauty,  which  cannot  be  properly  appreciated  without  study- 
ing all  its  component  elements. 

The  cause  which  he  defended  was  this.  In  the  middle  of  the 
fourth  century,  Greece  as  a  whole  was  in  anarchy  and  confusion.  In 
the  presence  of  cities  mutually  hostile  and  powerless,  Thessaly,  and 
then  Macedon,  grew  strong  and  sought  to  assume  the  hegemony 
left  vacant.  Athens  needed  to  decide  whether  she  should  let  events 
follow  their  course,  or  reassume  her  former  rank!  Each  policy  had 
its  partisans.  The  friends  of  the  let-alorie  policy,  of  peace  at  any 
price,  were  of  different  sorts  :  pessimists  like  Phocion,  who  despised 
their  contemporaries ;  high-minded,  but  chimerical  spirits  like  Isoc- 
rates,  who  saw  no  danger  except  from  Persia ;  adventurers  like  De- 
mades  and  ^schines,  who  found  it  to  their  interest  to  become  the 
advocates  of  Macedon ;  and  financiers  like  Eubulus,  who  feared  for 
the  city  the  heavy  expenses  of  the  war.  The  strength  of  the  party 
lay  in  the  general  fondness  for  comfort,  the  hatred  of  military  ser- 
vice, the  sluggish  optimism  of  the  multitudes,  and  the  lassitude 
engendered  by  the  numerous  failures  of  the  policy  of  ambition. 
Other  men,  on  the  contrary,  had  a  very  different  ideal ;  they  could 
not  conceive  of  an  Athens  lacking  liberty,  high  ideals,  or  purpose. 
They  pictured  in  the  triumph  of  Macedon  the  ruin  of  the  national 
life ;  they  wished  Athens  to  continue  worthy  of  her  past,  to  seek 
alliances,  and  particularly  to  cultivate  friendship  with  Thebes,  or 
even  with  Persia,  whom  they  regarded  as  much  less  dangerous  than 
Philip.  They  wished  her  to  be  ready  for  active  service  at  any  cost. 
Between  the  two  policies,  Demosthenes  did  not  hesitate.  He  m^in- 
tained  ardently  the  polioy  of  action^  and  after  sixteen  years  of  striv- 
ing he  persuaded  his  countrymen.  But  his  policy  failed ;  it  met 
its  doom  at  the  battle  of  Chaeronea.  Does  it  follow  that  the  cause 
was  bad,  and  Demosthenes  wrong  in  sustaining  it  ?  No.  Macedon 
was  victorious  only  because  both  Philip  and  Alexander  were  men  of 
talent,  and  because  the  latter,  at  the  age  of  twenty,  proved  to  be  a 
statesman  of  the  first  order.  "Who  can  say  what  would  have  hap- 
pened if  Philip  had  died  some  years  earlier,  or  Athens  been  sustained 
by  an  Epaminondas  ?  The  greatest  misfortune  Athens  could  incur 
in  following  the  policy  of  Demosthenes  was  that  of  succumbing 
with  honor.  In  following  that  of  ^schines  and  Phocion,  she  was- 
quite  as  sure  of  being  conquered  without  honor  ;  for  there  was  na 
room  by  the  side  of  Philip  for  an  independent  city.  Men  say  some- 
times that  the  interests  of  civilization  were  furthered  by  the  victory 
of  Macedon  and  the  diffusion  of  Greek  culture  through  the  Orient. 
This  may  be  true,  but  Demosthenes  had  no  such  problem  to 
consider.    He  was  in  the  situation  of  a  general,  who  cannot  ask  him- 


376  '        Greek  Literature 

self,  without  thinking  a  crime,  whether  the  enemy  represents  a  supe- 
rior form  of  civilization.  His  duty  is  narrowly  circumscribed  and 
imperious — to  defeat  the  enemy,  if  possible;  or  if  not,  to  struggle 
to  the  end.  This  he  did;  but  by  an  unforeseen  necessity,  the  defeat 
of  his  policy  ended  in  the  advancement  of  the  cause  of  civilization. 
In  doing  his  duty,  he  enhanced  the  moral  patrimony  of  Greece,  the 
very  substance  of  that  civilization  which  was  to  be  diffused.  Greece 
would  have  been  less  majestic  if  Athens  had  not  fought  at  Chaero- 
nea.  Furthermore,  the  cause  was  just  and  good  in  principle  ;  the 
only  question  was  whether  he  would  be  able  to  display  in  its  defence 
the  qualities  of  a  statesman,  or  merely  use,  in  the  advocacy  of  his 
tenets,  the  jargon  of  a  deftiagogue. 

The  question  was  a  grave  one.  There  is  a  way  of  defending  the 
noblest  causes  which  compromises  and  hinders  them.  The  party  of 
great,  sonorous,  hollow  words,  vain  and  ineffective  demonstrations, 
and  rodomontades  dispensing  with  activity,  or  rendering  all  rea- 
sonable activity  impossible,  existed  at  Athens  in  close  proximity  to 
Demosthenes.  His  merit  is  that  he  never  joined  it,  never  ceased  to 
distinguish  himself  from  it  by  word  and  deed,  struggled  against  it  at 
the  peril  of  his  reputation  when  necessary,  quite  regardless  of  his 
peace,  and  almost  of  his  life.  For  flourishes  of  patriotism,  in  the  end, 
were  his  worst  enemies.  He  was  a  statesman,  the  greatest  politician 
in  Athens  at  the  time.  As  such,  he  had  a  well-tempered  character,  an 
intelligence  idealistic  in  its  general  views,  positive  and  realistic  in 
the  appreciation  of  the  possible,  and  in  the  choice  of  means  for  attain- 
ing the  end.  He  spoke  nobly,  time  and  again,  on  the  conception 
he  had  of  his  function.  The  orator  is  the  counsellor  of  the  people  (crv/x- 
PovXo^).  The  wise  counsellor  is  the  opposite  of  the  sycophant  or  the 
demagogiie ;  above  all  else,  he  is  unselfish,  courageous,  frank.  He 
fears  not  to  speak  the  truth,  even  at  the  risk  of  displeasing.  The 
counsel  he  should  give  is  not  the  easiest,  but  the  best.^  It  is  not 
enough  that  the  orator  be  frank;  he  must  be  intelligent,  and  that, 
too,  in  politics.  If  he  be  mistaken,  he  must  bear  the  odium  of  his 
faults  ;  he  has  no  right  to  be  incapable  or  ignorant ;  for  no  one  asked 
him  to  be  a  statesman.^ 

The  conduct  of  Demosthenes  was  in  accord  with  his  theory.  He 
was  bold  in  speech  and  always  ready  to  lead  otliers  and  meet  respon- 
sibilities. He  did  not  fear  causing  displeasure ;  but  struck  preju- 
dice and  selfishness  square  in  the  face,  and  reprimanded  his  audi- 
ence with  friendly  severity.  He  even  resisted  his  own  party  ;  and 
this,  for  a  statesman,  is  the  height  of  courage.  His  policy  was  in- 
spired with  lofty  principles.  In  his  eyes  it  was  to  the  interest  of 
1  De  Cherson.  69-72.  2  Embassy,  100. 


Attic  Oratory  377 

Athens  to  sustain  her  honor  and  remain  faithful  to  her  tradi-  \ 
tional  character  (her  ^^os),  which  ^rought  her  always  to  aid 
the  feeble,  combat  tyrants,  and  champion  the  rights  of  Greece 
(to  Koiva  8cKaia  t5>v  'EAAt/vwv).  He  took  a  lofty  view  of  things, 
and  was  not  ignorant  that  apparent  interest,  apart  from  justice 
and  honor,  is  generally  an  illusion.  He  inherited  the  philosophic 
spirit  of  Pericles  and  Thucydides.  But  his  elevation  is  far  from 
being  mystical,  his  philosophy  far  from  superficial.  The  great 
defender  of  Athenian  honor  was  well  versed  in  history  and  the  spe- 
cific facts  of  exact  political  science.  No  other  orator  of  his  time  so 
abounded  in  positive  allusions,  in  proofs  based  on  actual  events. 
No  other  was  more  indifferent  to  the  old  legends  so  dear  to  Isocrates 
and  .lEschines.  This  marvellous  interpreter  of  general  truths  never 
shrank  from  technical,  minute  detail.  His  knowledge  of  men  and 
things  was  ample  and  far-reaching.  He  did  not  cease  with  exter- 
nals: he  knew  comprehensively  the  wiles  of  Philip,  his  activity, 
his  ambition ;  the  noble  or  weak  tendencies  of  Athens ;  and  the 
moral  misery  of  Sparta  and  Thebes.  If  certain  measures  com- 
mended themselves,  he  did  not  use  vague  phrases,  but  set  forth 
figures  and  minute  specifications.  He  loved  questions  of  business. 
This  idealist  reformed  the  Athenian  financial  system  ;  this  great 
advocate  of  political  justice  entered  with  zest  into  the  accounts  of 
men,  horses,  ships,  and  money  contributions. 

Yet  the  hatred  of  his  adversaries  brought  against  him  grave 
accusationsT"  llB  was  cluirgeH""witE  laxity,  improbity  as  aTogogra- 
plier,  and  venality  as  a  statesman.  The  echo  of  these  calumnies  is 
heard  in  the  historians  of  antiquity.  A  word  about  them  is,  accord- 
ingly, in  place,  though  Ave  would  not  do  more  honor  to  such  attacks 
than  they  deserve.  .Eschines  reproaches  him  with  having  trembled 
before  Philip  in  the  embassy  of  346,  and  with  having  spoken  little. 
If  the  statement  is  true,  it  may  easily  be  explained  by  reasons  more 
serious  and  honorable  than  that  of  childish  fear.  Others  blamed 
him  for  having  fled  at  Cha^ronea ;  but  the  city  as  a  whole  had  no 
such  opinion,  since  he  was  chosen  to  deliver  the  funeral  oration  for 
those  who  perished  on  the  field  of  battle.  His  pretended  improbity 
as  a  logographer  rests  only  upon  a  ridiculous  insinuation  of  ^-Eschines 
and  a  gross  misrepresentation  of  Plutarch.  Lastly,  his  venality  is 
no  better  established,  notwithstanding  his  condemnation  in  the  atfair 
of  Harpalus;  for  the  year  after,  the  whole  city,  including  his  most 
bitter  adversaries,  received  him  in  triumph.  This  does  not  mean, 
surely,  that  he  was  a  saint;  great  politicians  rarely  are  that,  and 
ancient  Greece  was  far  from  furnishing  exceptions  to  the  rule.  Current 
public  opinion,  too,  was  very  liberal  regarding  the  legitimacy  of  certain 


378  Chreek  Literature 

gains  allowed  to  orators  and  generals.  That  Demosthenes,  accord- 
ing to  the  usage  of  his  time,  drew  from  politics  profits  then  thought 
legitimate,  is  possible,  if  not  proved ;  that  he  employed  imprudently, 
in  the  interests  of  his  cause,  part  of  the  money  of  Harpalus,  is  much 
less  certain;  but  even  supposing  these  things  true,  it  would  not 
be  an  inexcusable  act,  dishonoring  a  statesman.  We  can  and  must 
affirm  that  we  have  no  evidence  allowing  us  to  assert  his  improbity  ; 
and  that  the  furious  attacks  of  his  enemies  have  all  the  air  of  being 
the  response  of  bad  faith  to  the  eloquent  outcry  which  he  never 
ceased  to  make  on  the  evils  Greece  met  with,  owing  to  the  venality 
of  the  orators.  It  would  really  be  childish  to  take  literally,  as 
established  facts,  these  flimsy  arguments  of  the  rostrum,  which  were 
in  such  general  use. 

His  oratory  expresses  perfectly  his  ardent,  imperious  nature,  both 
generous  and  intelligent,  both  idealistic  and  positive.  To-day  we 
speak  of  his  oratory,  and  mean  his  written  orations.  What  was  he 
on  the  rostrum  ?  As  a  rule,  he  prepared  his  speeches  thoroughly  ;  for 
Py theas,- an  -adrersary,^ lepioaches  them  with  smelling^fjjie-ia^p. 
Plutarch,  the  echo  of  ^schines,  and  Demades  often  speak  of  his 
laborious  periods.  In  the  beginning,  at  any  rate,  the  statement 
seems  to  have  some  foundation  ;  later  it  is  certain  that  his  action 
was  vehement  and  even  fiery,  and  this  excludes  the  idea  of  simple 
recitation.  ^Eschines  mocks  at  his  cries  and  furious  agitation,  call- 
ing him  a  tawny  beast.  Demosthenes,  speaking  of  oratorical  gifts, 
made  action  of  prime  importance.  It  is,  then,  undeniable  that,  on 
the  rostrum,  he  produced  the  strongest  impression  possible,  and,  as 
an  orator  of  the  first  order,  made  every  effort  to  do  so.  We  cannot 
now  judge  of  the  matter  for  ourselves ;  for  it  is  evident  that,  in  writ- 
ing the  oration  after  or  before  the  public  delivery,  he  could  not  have 
written  it  exactly  as  it  was  spoken.  But  with  this  exception,  we 
must  say  that  the  extraordinary  merit  of  his  oratory  consists  in 
having,  more  than  any  other,  the  atmosphere  of  life.  Never  has 
written  eloquence  preserved  more  of  the  ardor,  or  the  flexible  intona- 
tion, of  discourse  that  is  majestically  strong  and  clever,  noted  down 
when  it  still  glows  with  the  passionate  fervor  of  a  splendid  delivery. 
One  can  say,  in  a  word,  that  tlie  substance  of  his  oratory,  like  that 
of  his  ])olitical  genius,  is  action,  not  parade  or  literary  vanity.  All 
he  says  aims  at  an  end,  which  is  to  control  men  and  lead  them 
whitlier  he  chooses.  All  his  cleverness  as  a  writer  tends  only  to 
portray  with  faithfulness  his  pungent  energy  as  an  orator,  his  domi- 
nating will,  liis  lofty,  practical  views  as  a  statesman.  Feuelon,  in 
his  L(4tn'  ()  rAcach'mie  fran(;aise,  has  said  this  with  exquisite  just- 
ness ;  and  we  should  need  here  only  to  recall  his  words,  if  it  were 


Attic  Oratory  379 

not  our  duty,  in  a  more  technical  analysis  of  the  facts,  to  seek  the 
manner  and  the  reason  of  his  methods  of  procedure. 

J  His  language,  like  that  of  Lysias  or  Isocrates,  is  purely  Attic, 
the  spoken  Attic  of  his  time,  without  admixture  of  archaic  or  poetic 
forms.  But  within  the  domain  of  ordinary  words,  his  choice  is 
varied.  He  does  not  fear  the  familiar,  nor  even  the  trivial,  more 
than  the  sublime.  If  he  creates  new  words,  they  are  words  of  pas- 
sion, such  as  the  popular  language  was  creating  constantly,  but 
never  literary  words.  BoM_jiijeterpluaa^_j^turescLue  image^^  pas- 
sionate hyperboles,  illuminate  and  warm  his  style.  They  are  full  of 
life,  and  arranged  in  the  freest  ord"er711ie~DTder  most  in  conformity 
with  the  movement  of  his  imagination.  Nothing  resembles  less  the 
fine  but  icy  regularity  of  Isocrates.  It  resembles  more  the  vigorous 
freedom  of  Thucydides,  when  divested  of  his  stiffness  and  obscurity. 
There  is  the  same  variety,  the  same  movement  of  thought — now 
short,  rough,  breathless,  now  long  and  ample,  when  the  flood  of  sen- 
timents and  ideas  carries  it,  so  to  speak,  beyond  the  finite.  The  uni- 
form mould  has  disappeared  with  the  rules  of  the  schools.  No  labor 
could  be  more  fruitless  than  to  try  cataloguing  the  forms  and 
rhythms  in  the  periods  of  Demosthenes.  The  only  rule  he  followed 
was  that  of  following  none.  His  period  is  the  very  image  of  his 
soul.  It  is  highly  rhythmical,  with  the  rhythm  of  comrnaiTd'^nti  will, 
which  emphasizes  a  particular  word  and  then  hastens  to  its  goal.  He 
is  a  man  of  action  and  of  passion.  He  neither  dreams  nor  soars,  but 
handles  serious  ideas  with  vigor  and  unites  them  into  a  solid  whole. 
Yet  he  carefully  avoids  hiatus,  like  a  true  pupil  of  Isocrates.  Isoc- 
rates had,  however,  so  changed  the  grammar  of  oratory  on  this  point 
that  hiatus  had  become  almost  a  solecism.  It  has  been  noted  that 
Demosthenes  refrained  from  the  accumulation  of  short  syllables  ; 
but  it  may  have  been  undesignedly,  because,  with  the  instinct  of  a 
great  artist,  he  felt  a  discord  between  the  effect  of  bounding  lightness 
produced  by  many  short  syllables  and  the  stark  ruggedness  which 
forms  the  substance  of  his  inspiration. 

And  so,  since  he  speaks  to  persuade,  not  to  amuse  or  dazzle,  rea- 
sqiiing^  is_the_very  soul  of_his  eloquence^  His  language  is  remarkable 
for  moderation,  clearness,  unforeseen  surprises,  tenacity,  passion,  and 
commanding  tone.  He  readily  presents  his  thesis  in  the  form  of 
paradox,  for  he  knows  that  paradox  excites  attention.  But  one  sees 
immediately  that  only  the  appearance  is  paradoxical,  and  that  the 
substance  of  the  idea  is  lucid  good  sense.  He  knows  that  it  is  not 
enough  to  preisent  an  idea  to  the  public  superficially,  in  order  to 
make  it  penetrate  men's  minds,  but  that  it  is  necessary  to  emphasize  it 
by  blow  upon  blow.    It  must  be  repeated  to  impress  intelligence  and 


380  Ghreek  Literature 

memory.  He  excels,  like  Pascal,  in  treating  an  irJe^  ii;x  all  its  phases, 
until  even  the  dullest  of  his  auditors  is  forced  to  understand. 
At  every  instant  he  challenges  them,  warning  them  to  listen.  He 
represents  them  as  engaged  in  lively  discussions.  All  moves  ;  all  is 
animated.  No  one  is  less  a  sophist.  He  did,  indeed,  compose  occa- 
sional sophisms,  especially  when  his  prejudices  carried  him  away; 
but  it  was  not  the  natural  turn  of  his  mind  to  mould  his  sentences  into 
forms  of  quibbling  and  subtlety.  He  took  up  questions  rather  in  their 
broader  aspects  and  treated  them  with  bold  frankness.  His  dialectic 
is  thoroughly  reasonable. 

The  need  of  conviction  is  so  urgent  in  him,  so  constantly  present 
in  his  thought,  that  it  dominates  every  part  of  his  oratory  and  lends 
it  a  profoundly  eloquent  character.  If  he  tells  a  story,  it  is  never 
for  the  mere  pleasure  of  the  telling,  but  to  establish  the  facts  of 
which  he  has  need.  He  has  some  admirable  narratives  ;  for  example, 
the  capture  of  Elatea  in  the  oration  On  the  Crown, ^  or  the  progress 
of  Philip  in  the  oration  On  the  ChersonesusJ^  These  are  short,  con- 
sisting merely  of  a  few  energetic  sentences  thoroughly  incorporated 
—with  the  argument.  The  same  is  true  of  the  portraits  or  the  charac- 
ter sketches,  so  abundant  and  expressive  in  the  Philippics.  Tliey  are 
never  declamations ;  but  are  charges  against  Philip  or  ^'Eschines  and 
warnings  to  Athens.  Hence  in  the  arrangement  of  the  jiarts  of  the 
oration,  there  is  often  an  apparent  complexity  which  has  caused 
scholars  embarrassment :  after  a  brief  exordium,  at  once  forcibly  com- 
manding attention,  he  treats  successively,  in  two  or  three  ])aragraphs, 
clear  and  simple  in  subject-matter,  the  two  or  three  essential  ideas 
he  wishes  to  present ;  but,  as  he  keeps  always  before  his  eyes  the 
goal  toward  which  he  advances,  he  never  ceases,  on  the  way,  to  keep 
his  conclusion  vividly  before  his  auditors.  This  occasionally  deranges 
the  order  of  the  traditional  divisions  so  dear  to  the  rhetoricians. 
The  whole  may  seem  less  neat,  perhaps,  than  the  work  of  other  orators, 
such  as  ^Eschines  or  Isocrates,  who  aim  above  all  at  beauty  of  the 
facade.  But  Demosthenes  was  willing  to  forego  the  elegance  and 
polish  of  their  diction,  if  only  he  could  influence  his  auditors 
and  force  them  to  obey. 

It  has  been  said  at  times  that  he  was  wanting  in  spirit.  This  is 
true,  if  one  refers  to  the  gay  subtlety  of  thought  which  amuses  itself 
with  pleasing  inventions  like  those  found,  for  example,  in  .^schines 
or  ( 'icero.  Demosthenes  is  too  passionate  to  care  for  spirit  of  that 
order.  He  lacks  certain  agreeable  qualities,  such  as  sweetness,  grace, 
or  witty  amiability.  P>ut  if  one  desires  the  spirit  that  can  win,  bitjjig 
sarcasm  or  glowing  warmth,  he  has  more  of  it  than  any  one  else. 
1  De  CorTlGQ.  2  j)^  Cherson.  61-67. 


Attic  Oratory  381 

What  makes  him  the  most  remarkable  orator  in  all  literature  is  the 
incredible  movement  of  a  thought  that  is  always  serious,  yet  always 
in  ebullition,  in  which  sentiments  apparently  the  most  diverse, 
everything  from  jesting  sportiveness  to  religious  gravity,  from  rude 
triviality  to  the  sublimest  eloquence,  press  upon  each  other,  succeed 
each  other,  mingle  together  in  a  burst  of  passion  that  carries  all 
before  it. 

13.  His  Most  Important  Orations.  Conclusion.  —  It  would  be 
difficult  to  make  a  choice  among  so  many  orations  almost  equally 
beautiful.  With  their  diversity,  they  present  always  nearly  the  same 
characteristics,  those  of  the  orator's  innate  genius.  The  group  of 
harangues  proper  comprises  the  First  Philippic  (351),  the  three 
Qlynthiacs  (349-348),  the  oration  O/i  the  Peace_  ('346').  the  Second 
Zffulippic,  the  oration  On  the  Chersonesus  (341),  and  in  the  same  year 
tKe  fjiird  Philij)j>ic.  The  group  of  the  great  political  pleas  of  his 
maturity  includes  that  Against  Midias  (348),  the  accusation  against 
^schines  in  the  oratioiT  Un  the  Embassy  (343),  and  the  defence  of 
Ctesiphon  in  the  oration  Onjlie  Uroiou'  (830).  These  are  all  of  the 
first  order.  The  bold  and  sensible  oration  On  the  Peace,  that  On  the 
Chersonesus,  in  which  the  particular  matter  of  Diopithes  is  so  boldly 
put  aside  to  make  place  for  the  examination  of  the  general  state 
of  things,  the  Third  Philippic,  with  its  penetrating  melancholy,  yet 
obstinate  energy,  contrast  by  various  merits  with  the  First  Philippic, 
whose  optimism  is  so  confident  and  imperious.  The  oration  Against 
Midias,  despite  the  sometimes  disagreeable  bitterness  of  an  intense 
personal  hatred,  is  full  of  admirable  feeling  for  the  necessity  of  the 
reigu  of  law  in  a  democracy.  The  oration  On  the  Embassy  is  a  mar- 
vel of  fire  and  irresistible  argument.  Perhaps,  however,  the  oration 
On  the  Croivn  gives  the  completest  and  most  exalted  idea  of  his 
genius.  Whence  comes  the  incomparable  beauty  of  the  speech  ? 
It  is  principally  moral.  It  comes  from  the  fact  that  nowhere  has 
the  orator's  magnanimity  nor  his  indomitable  courage  and  heroic 
optimism  been  more  completely  revealed.  The  judicial  thesis  is 
questionable,  if  not  feeble.  It  seems  that  ^schines  was  right  in 
theory,  but  that  Ctesiphon  had  some  precedents  in  his  favor.  But 
if  the  judicial  thesis  is  subject  to  discussion,  the  political  and  moral 
thesis,  besides  being  true,  is  really  sublime.  "  I  have  done  all  I 
could  to  save  Athens,"  says  Demosthenes ;  "  it  is  only  our  fortune  ^ 
and  our  traitors  who  have  destroyed  us.  But  there  are  noble  defeats, 
just  as  there  are  noble  deaths.  Even  after  the  defeat,  you  have 
nothing  to  regret ;  you  have  done  your  duty.  That  is  the  essential 
thing.  No,  you  have  not  failed,  Athenians ;  I  swear  it  by  the  dead 
on  the  plain  of  Marathon."     This  is  the  dominant  idea  of  the  speech, 


^ 


382  Greek  Literature 

constituting  its  soul,  its  unity.  All  the  merits  of  the  author's  style 
are  found  in  the  oration;  it  is  useless  to  repeat  them.  Let  us  be 
content  with  mentioning  a  few  of  its  most  celebrated  passages,  that 
the  admiration  of  all  ages  has  consecrated,  as  it  were,  and  that  it  is 
trite  to  quote,  when  so  many  historians  of  oratory  have  quoted  them. 
Among  such  passages  are  that  on  the  capture  of  Elatea,  or  the 
oath  sworn  by  the  heroes  of  Marathon,  whose  general  sense  and 
import  we  have  just  given. 

The  effect  produced  by  this  oratory  on  his  contemporaries  is 
clearly  indicated  by  several  passages  of  ^schines.  He  has  noted 
with  malevolence,  yet  justly,  despite  himself,  the  powerful  vigor  of 
his  rival.  Later,  in  the  diversity  of  the  rhetorical  schools,  the 
admiration  of  the  masters  seems  to  hesitate  whether  to  assign  the 
first  rank  to  Demosthenes  or  to  one  of  several  others.  But  from 
the  time  of  Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus,  the  primacy  of  Demosthenes 
was  undisputed.  In  modern  times,  Cicero,  being  better  known  and 
more  academic,  has  certainly  been  better  relished  in  general  until 
the  present  generation.  In  the  seventeenth  century,  only  Fenelon 
spoke  of  the  Greek  orator  with  full  appreciation  of  his  genius. 
To-day  the  whole  world  recognizes  in  Demosthenes  the  greatest 
political  orator  of  all  time.  No  other  shows  better  by  his  example 
that  in  oratory  —  and  we  may  say  more  generally,  in  all  the  arts  — 
the  supreme  grandeur  is  that  which  joins  to  technical  perfection  the 
pectus  of  the  artist,  that  is  to  say,  his  soul. 

14.  ^schines.^  —  Demosthenes's  rival,  .^schines,  notwithstanding 
the  brilliance  of  his  career  and  his  indisputable  talent,  is  really  a 
much  inferior  character,  who  must  not  occupy  us  long.  His  intel- 
lectual and  moral  nature  is  thoroughly  mediocre,  and  it  is  only  the 
brilliant  pretentiousness  of  his  speeches  which  has  given  him  histori- 
cal and  literary  importance. 

He  was  born  at  Athens  in  390,  and  was  of  humble  origin.  His 
father,  Atrometus,  was  an  athlete,  a  mercenary  soldier,  and  a  school- 
master in  succession.  His  mother  was  a  TcXcVrpui;  that  is,  she 
practised  religious  initiations.  Without  accepting  literally  all  the 
accounts  of  Demosthenes,  it  is  certain  that  neither  the  infancy  of 
.^schines  nor  his  young  manhood  had  prepared  him  for  a  political 
career.     To   earn   his   living,   he   became   the    secretary  of   certain 

1  Bibliography  :  Editions  by  Schutz  (Teubner),  Weidner  (Berlin,  Weid- 
nnann).  Gwatkin  and  Shuckburgh  (London,  1890  ;  with  a  good  coinmentarj')? 
and  Richardson,  Boston,  1889.     Critical  edition  by  Blass,  Teubner,  1896. 

French  translation  by  Stievenart  in  the  volume  with  his  Demosthenes. 
Ensli.sh  translation  of  the  oration  Against  Ctpsiphon,  by  Biddle,  Philadelphia, 
1881. 

Consult :  Caatets.  Eschine  Vorateur,  Paris,  1872. 


Attic  Oratory  383 

inferior  magistrates,  then  an  _actor.  The  friendship  of  Aristophon 
of  Azenia  probably  secured  his  nomination  as  registrar  of  the  popu- 
lar assembly.  Then  he  attached  himself  to  Eubulus,  the  head  of  the 
peace  party.  About  350  he  married,  and  the  marriage  seemed  to  \ 
have  secured  him  a  revenue  again;  his  wife's  brothers  were  in  a  \ 
well-to-do  condition.  It  is  only  in  348  that  he  seems  to  have  decided  ' 
to  be  an  orator.  He  was  then  among  the  adversaries  of  Philip. 
But  he  soon  changed  opinions,  and  never  after  ceased  to  combat  with 
extreme  violence  the  policy  of  Demosthenes.  In  346  he  was  one  of 
the  embassy  of  Philostratus  appointed  to  negotiate  a  peace ;  and  it 
is  with  reference  to  this  that  Demosthenes  brought  an  accusation 
against  him  in  343.  A  majority  of  thirty  votes  acquitted  him.  In 
339  he  was  pylacjorus  of  the  Amphictyonic  Council.  A  criminal,  or 
else  inept,  proposition  of  his  gave  Philip  a  pretext  for  intervening 
as  the  avenger  of  the  god  of  Delphi.  Hence  the  capture  of  Elatea, 
and  the  war  which  ended  with  the  battle  of  Chseronea.  Immedi- 
ately after  that,  Ctesiphon  proposed  to  award  Demosthenes -♦  trjyvvn  «^/  A< 
of  gold  in  the  theatre,  and  J^^schines  accused  Ctesiphon  of  illegal  ^  i 
procedure.  The  process  came  before  the  courts  in  330.  ^schines 
did  not  obtain  a  iifth  part  of  the  votes,  and  chose  voluntary  exile  in 
preference  to  the  heavy  fine  that  he  would  need  to  pay.  He  retired 
to  Asia  Minor,  and  perhaps  also  to  Rhodes,  to  practise  the  profes- 
sion of  a  sophist  by  giving  oratorical  readings.  A  celebrated  anec- 
dote, though  little  worthy  of  credence,  represents  him  as  one  day 
reading  before  his  pupils  the  two  orations  of  the  suit  concerning  the 
crown,  that  of  Demosthenes  and  his  own.  At  this  point,  the  forms 
of  the  legend  vary.  According  to  some,  when  his  disciples  were 
astonished  that  the  oration  had  not  triumphed  over  that  of  Demos- 
thenes, he  said,  "It  is  because  you  have  not  heard  the  monster 
(to  Orjpiov)  himself."  According  to  others,  the  admiration  of  the  dis- 
ciples for  the  speech  of  his  rival  convinced  yEschines  himself,  who 
cried  out :  "  What  would  you  think,  if  you  had  heard  the  monster 
himself  ?  " ' 

Was  ^schines  really  a  traitor,  as  Demosthenes  keeps  saying 
even  to  satiety  ?  There  is  no  doubt  that  he  received  from  Philip 
gifts  of  land  in  Bneotia  and  in  Macedon.  We  can  show  from  his 
own  speeches  that  he  denied  his  relations  with  Philip  even  while  he] 
was  the  guest  of  Alexander.-  All  this  is  equivocal  and  sus])icious.l 
The  best  one  can  say,  perhaps,  to  clear  hini  is  that  the  mediocrity 
of  his  political  genius  may  have  blinded  him  to  the  consequences 
of  certain  of  his  acts.  He  boasts,  for  example,  with  strange  sim- 
plicity, in  330,  of  the  part  that  he  played  in  339  in  the  Amphic- 
1  Cic.  De  Orat.  Ill,  56.  2  /„  ci^s.  66. 


384  Chreek  Literature 

tyonic  Council/  and  does  not  then  seem  to  suspect  that  he  was  the 
cause  of  the  baleful  war  of  338.  In  all  his  orations,  it  is  impossible 
to  seize  upon  a  serious  political  idea,  or  a  just  notion  of  contemporary 
affairs.  He  is  a  parvenu,  a  frivolous  person  who,  though  humble  in 
origin,  is  very  proud  of  the  high  rank  he  has  attained  in  the  party 
of  the  rich  aristocrats.  He  is  proud  of  his  success  as  a  man  of 
letters.,  aiid  an._ itinerant  playwright.  He  is  happy  in  having  a  fine 
voice,  a  commanding  presence,  a  noble  appearance  on  the  rostrum, 
an  imperturbable  facility  in  improvisation.  He  had  received  com- 
pliments from  Philip  and  took  pleasure  in  repeating  them  :  the  man 
who  was  able  to  appreciate  him  so  well  must  himself  be  great. 
Demosthenes,  on  the  contrary,  was  odious ;  he  pursued  the  great 

(  orator  with  the  hatred  of  a  jealous  politician  and  man  of  letters. 

I  He  mocked  at  his  cries,  his  violent  gestures,  and  the  labor  he  spent 

\n  finishing  his  style. 

We  have  only  three  of  the  orations  of  ^schines :  an  accusation, 
full  of  hatred  and  venom,  against  a  certain  Timarchus,  the  political 
ally  of  Demosthenes ;  his  defence  in  the  matter  of  the  Embassy  ; 
and  his  plea  Against  Ctesiphon.  These  are  the  only  ones  that  he 
wrote ;  for  he  was  not  a  logographer  by  profession,  and  improvised 
his  political  orations.  It  was  evidently  with  the  design  of  propa- 
gandism  that  he  wrote  the  three  discourses  we  possess. 

His  oratory,  though  devoid  of  the  help  of  his  sonorous  voice  and 
other  superficial  gifts,  is  brilliant  and  pretty,  yet  with  the  essential 
defects  due  to  his  nature.  These  are  not  such  as  appear  at  once  and 
as  can  compromise,  even  before  a  casual  reader,  the  immediate  suc- 
cess of  the  orations.  It  is  only  on  reflection  that  one  sees  how 
many  political  views  this  political  eloquence  lacks,  how  much  the 
support  of  history  and  of  reflection  upon  experience  is  wanting, 
how  vague  it  is,  what  misuse  it  makes  of  personal  attacks,  vicious, 
cold  hatred,  impudent  falsehood,  and  frivolous  calumny,  all  the 
resources  which  folly  obtains  from  vice,  and  which  find  an  assured 
echo  in  the  malignity  of  an  audience.  By  the  side  of  these  defects, 
which  only  attention  reveals,  there  are  brilliant  merits  that  appear 
at  once.  The  reader  is  charmed  before  he  has  had  time  to  reflect. 
The  narrowness  and  baseness  of  the  thought  is  concealed  beneath 
external  dignity,  elegant  manners,  grace,  and  harmony.  iEschines 
has  always  on  his  lips  the  eulogy  of  tvKoa^ta,  good  order  in  public 
and  private  life.  He  knows  how  to  speak  of  himself  with  the  dig- 
nity of  decency,  and  of  his  parents  with  a  respect  that  may  be  sin- 
ccir.-  If  lie  is  a  mediocre  politician,  he  is  a  good  lawyer,  knowing 
well  the  content  of  the  law,  because  of  having  been  at  one  time  a 
'  In  Ctes.  119-121.  ^  On  the  Embassy,  147  ff. 


Attic  Oratory  385 

recorder.  He  discusses  the  law  with  confidence,  and  can  arrange  as 
well  as  any  one  fine  phrases  on  the  importance  of  official  documents 
and  on  the  usefulness  of  the  archives  that  preserve  them  for  pos- 
terity.* (But  it  is  principally  in  form  that  his  oratory  is  meritorious,/ 
In  this  respect  it  need  scarcely  fear  comparison.  We  must  put 
aside,  of  course,  that  of  Demosthenes,  as  unparalleled.  But  with  this 
one  exception,  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  type  more  seductive 
than  that  of  ^^schines.  Its  rhetoric  is  admirable,  clear,  abundant, 
varied,  affecting,  witty,  at  times  gracefully  left  without  polish,  yet 
always  in  perfect  order.  Its  lucid  clearness  is  its  chief  merit. 
The  sentences,  without  being  balanced  like  those  of  Isocrates  or 
logical  like  those  of  Demosthenes,  are  stately,  easy  to  follow,  and 
alive  with  the  spirit  of  eloquence.  There  is  the  same  clearness  in 
his  narratives  as  in  his  discussions.  All  the  elements  of  every 
oration  partake  of  this  quality.  Nothing  is  without  its  purpose. 
The  orations  are  of  moderate  length,  fully  a  third  shorter  than  the 
corresponding  ones  of  Demosthenes,  and  always  constructed  on  a 
simple  plan.  It  is  easy  to  see  their  arrangement  at  a  glance.  His 
clearness  is  not  cold.  He  interests  us  continuously.  He  makes  us 
wish  with  every  paragraph  that  we  knew  what  is  to  follow.  In  this 
well-ordered  plan,  he  spreads,  with  harmonious  prodigality,  the 
greatest  variety  of  colors.  The  fundamental  tone  of  his  oratory  is 
elegant  gravity,  resembling  at  times  that  of  Isocrates,  or  that  of  the 
poets  whom  he  loves  to  cite.  Upon  this  basis  he  builds  vigorous 
or  witty  constructions.  His  force  is  no  less  remarkable  than  his 
dignity,  and  is  always  accompanied  with  charm.  His  manner  is 
above  all  persuasive,  and  adopts  every  form  of  expression.  Some- 
times the  subtlety  of  the  idea  is  rendered  by  a  characteristic  word  ; 
sometimes  it  is  spread  over  an  entire  sentence ;  very  often,  by  a 
form  of  ingenuity  in  which  he  differs  most  from  Demosthenes,  the 
subtlety  is  prolonged  through  a  lengthy  narrative,  which  it  seems 
to  light  with  a  delicate  smile,  making  it  pleasing  and  graceful,  even 
pungent,  though  not  sarcastic.  He  possesses  the  gayety  tluit  Demos- 
thenes lacks.  He  has  a  vivid  word  and  turn  with  his  lightness. - 
Faulty  rhetoric,  pretentious  and  cold,  is  not  wholly  absent :  the  invo- 
cation to  the  Earth,  the  Sun,  Intelligence,  and  Education,  in  the  pero- 
ration of  the  speech  Against  Ctesiphon  is  an  example,  l^ut  it  is  very 
rare,  almost  exceptional.  On  the  whole,  few  men  have  been  better  en^ 
do  wed  with  the  external  and  technical  qualities  necessary  in  oratory; 
what  he  needed  was  loftier  thought  and  greater  honesty  of  heart. 

/ 

1  In  Ctes.  75, 

^  Examples  abound.     Suffice  it  to  mention,  in  the  oration  On  the  Embassy. 
the  clever  tale  of  the  embarrassmeut  of  Demosthenes,  mute  before  Philip,  34-35, 
2  c 


386  Greek  Literature 

15.  Hyperides.^  —  Among  the  orators  who,  in  the  struggles  against 
Macedon,^ook  sides  with  Demosthenes,  the  most  eloquent  by  far  was 
Hyperides^  Some  even  preferred  him  to  the  great  master.  The 
error  —  for  it  is  one  —  is  excusable,  as  Hyperides  possessed  qualities 
of  the  first  order,  as  an  orator  at  least,  if  not  as  a  statesman. 

He  was  born  in  389,  five  years  before  Demosthenes.  His  family 
was  in  easy  circumstances.  He  is  said  to  have  been  a  pupil  of 
Isocrates,  and  also  of  Plato,  but  the  latter  is  scarcely  probable.  Like 
Demosthenes,  he  was  at  first  a  logographer.  The  profession  enriched 
him  and  made  possible  the  voluptuous  life  which  seems  to  have  been 
one  of  the  necessary  conditions  of  his  happiness.  Yet  it  did  not 
diminish  his  activity.  From  the  year  360  he  began  to  take  part  in 
politics.  He  immediately  became  the  ally  of  Demosthenes,  and  one 
of  the  chiefs  of  the  war  party.  After  the  battles  of  Chaeronea,  it 
was  he  who  proposed  the  necessary  measures  of  defence ;  and  later, 
when  Demades  accused  him  of  illegal  procedure  in  the  matter,  he 
replied  in  these  celebrated  words  :  ''  The  arms  of  Macedon  prevented 
me  from  taking  note  of  the  laws.  ...  It  is  not  I  who  caused  the 
decree  to  be  passed :  it  is  Chseronea."  Toward  the  middle  of  Alex- 
ander's reign,  serious  differences  separated  him  from  Demosthenes. 
The  latter  regarded  the  cause  of  independence  as  irrevocably  lost 
and  advocated  a  policy  of  prudence.  Hyperides  seems  to  have  con- 
tinued to  favor  the  war.  When  Harpalus  came  to  demand  the  sup- 
port of  Athens,  Hyperides  seconded  the  demand,  and  was  opposed  by 
Demosthenes.  Harpalus  had  been  imprisoned  on  the  Acropolis,  and 
after  his  flight,  Hyperides  was  among  the  foremost  accusers  of  Demos- 
thenes. The  year  after,  however,  the  death  of  Alexander  reconciled 
them.  Hyperides  carried  a  measure  for  war  against  Antipater.  But 
Macedon,  victorious  at  Crannon,  demanded  the  chiefs  of  the  party  of 
resistance.  Hyperides  was  obliged  to  flee  like  Demosthenes,  but  was 
'also  captured  by  Archias.  He  was  straightway  condemned.  It  is\ 
said  that,  when  put  to  torture,  he  bit  off  his  own  tongue  to  make  h' 
ysure  of  saying  nothing.  -^ 

The  ancients  possessed  under  his  name  seventy-seven  orations, 
of  which  only  fifty -two  were  generally  considered  authentic.  They 
include  public  and  private  orations  and  a  declamation,  the  Funeral 
Oration  for  the  Athenians  slain  before  Lamia  in  323.  Of  all  these 
works,  there  remained  half  a  century  ago  only  some  very  short  frag- 
ments.    Since  then,  a  series  of  discoveries  among  the  papyri   in 

1  The  third  edition  of  Bla.s.s,  Teubner,  1895,  alone  has  all  the  recently  dis- 
covered remains  of  the  work  of  Hyperides. 

[Some  mention  is  due  also  to  Kenyon's  excellent  edition  of  the  orations 
A(jainst  Athpnorjpnis  and  Against  FhiUppides  (London,  1893),  which  has  notes 
and  a  translation.  —  Tr.j 


Attic  Oratory  387 

Egypt  has  given  us  six  orations,  more  or  less  mutilated,  which  enable 
us  to  get  an  idea  of  his  oratory.  The  portions  discovered  belong  to 
the  oration  Against  Demosthenes,  the  Funeral  Oration,  and  various 
public  and  private  cases.  The  last  of  the  discoveries  (1892)  has  dis- 
closed notably  the  larger  part  of  the  plea  Against  Athenogenes,  one 
of  his  most  celebrated  judicial  speeches. 

What  chiefly  characterizes  him  is  a  combination  of  various  and 
almost  contrary  qualities :  force  with  grace,  vehemence  with  wit, 
subtlety  with  simplicity,  —  and  all  this  natural,  easy,  abundant,  and 
yet  restrained.  He  recalls  now  Lysias,  now  Isocrates,  now  Demos- 
thenes, yet  is  truly  himself.  The  author  of  the  treatise  On  the  Sub- 
lime  compares  him  acutely  with  the  victors  of  the  pentathlon,  who, 
though  inferior  in  each  exercise  to  the  specialists,  win,  owing  to 
their  high  average.  The  ingenious  comparison  does  not  do  Hy- 
perides  full  justice,  because,  though  not  possessing  the  simplicity  of 
Lysias,  nor  the  abundance  of  Isocrates,  he  is  still,  on  the  whole, 
superior  to  either,  inasmuch  as  he  adds  to  most  of  their  qualities 
the  prime  quality  of  a  great  orator,  namely,  force.  He  has  less  of 
it  than  Demosthenes,  yet  it  is  abundant.  Besides,  he  had  great 
wit;  his  puns  were  celebrated,  and  his  written  orations  show  some- 
thing of  his  piquant  force.  By  his  lively,  free  style,  his  rare  talent 
as  a  narrator,  his  adroit,  incisive  argumentation,  his  easy  aptitude  in 
general  truths,  his  clever,  flexible,  vivid  invention,  he  is  one  of  the 
purest  representatives  of  Atticism. 

The  plea  Against  Athenogenes  is  an  exquisite  example  of  the  art 
of  the  logographers.  The  case  was  tried  after  330,  which,  we  may 
say  in  passing,  proves  that  he  returned  to  his  former  profession, 
at  least  at  intervals,  till  the  end  of  his  life.  The  oration  presents 
an  amusing  picture  of  manners.  The  client  is  a  young  man,  who, 
yielding  to  an  amorous  caprice,  found  himself  induced  by  clever  in- 
trigue to  buy  at  a  high  price  a  perfumer's  shop,  that  really  had  little 
value.  He  petitioned  the  judges  to  annul  the  sale.  In  his  story 
there  figure  an  intriguing  old  lady,  Antigona,  once  a  courtesan,  and 
a  worthy  companion  of  hers,  the  metic  Athenogenes,  with  some 
supernumeraries.  All  this  curious  group  is  sketched  with  a  light, 
skilful  hand,  and  the  pleader's  simplicity  renders  him  almost  pa- 
thetic amidst  these  sharpers. 

The  discourse  Against  Demosthenes,  which  interests  us  still  more, 
is  unfortunately  much  mutilated.  But  what  we  have  is  full  of  inter- 
est. It  includes  a  certain  number  of  the  elements  in  the  setting  of 
the  case ;  and  the  language  is  lofty,  pungent,  and  vivacious.  Some- 
times it  has  a  touching  sadness,  which  well  befits  such  a  debate. 

The  Funeral  Oration,  pronounced  in  323,  was  probably  the  last 


388  Greek  Literature 

that  he  found  time  to  write.  It  also  is  very  interesting,  on  account 
of  the  new  proof  it  gives  of  the  extraorcfinary  scope  of  his  talent. 
The  logographer  and  political  orator  was  no  bungler  in  a  type  of 
composition  so  different ;  he  adapted  himself  to  the  laws  of  this 
composition  with  perfect  ease,  and  even  showed  himself  original. 
His  eulogy  of  Leosthenes,  the  Athenian  general,  departs  from  the 
ordinary  impersonality  of  funeral  orations,  in  which  one  sees  only 
the  image  of  the  city.  His  consolations  addressed  to  the  relatives 
of  the  dead  are  of  delicately  sympathetic  feeling.  The  manner  in 
which  he  speaks  of  the  future  life  astonishes  us  in  a  funeral  ora- 
tion at  Athens.  Finally,  the  politician  is  revealed  in  one  passage, 
in  which  there  is  clear  view  of  what  the  civilized  world  was  going  to 
be  under  the  rule  of  a  single  master,  and  of  the  horror  which  that 
condition  would  inspire  in  an  Athenian. 

Besides  these  orations,  certain  fragments,  preserved  through  the 
citation  of  ancient  authors,  very  neatly  fill  out  the  picture  of  the 
man.  Take,  for  example,  that  in  which  he  ironically  resumes 
the  exploits  of  Demades,  who  had  achieved  the  commissioning  of 
a  ]voxenia :  — 

"  The  motives  he  alleges  in  his  decree  are  not  his  real  motives, 
Athenians.  If  you  wish  him  to  be  2>^'oxenus,  I  will  reedit  the  decree 
as  follows :  *  The  people  has  awarded  him  this  proxenia  for  having, 
in  all  his  acts  and  words,  done  the  works  of  Philip  ;  for  having,  as 
hipparch,  delivered  the  cavaliers  of  Olynthus  to  Philip;  for  having, 
by  tliat  act,  brought  on  the  ruin  of  the  Chalcidians ;  for  having 
become,  after  the  capture  of  Olynthus,  purchaser  of  the  prisoners  sold 
at  auction  ;  for  having  opposed  the  city's  interests  in  the  affair  of  the 
temple  at  Delos ;  for  having  carefully  abstained,  after  the  battle 
of  Chseronea,  from  burying  a  fallen  soldier,  or  ransoming  a  single 
prisoner.' "  ^ 

Here  is  another,  on  the  children  of  the  orator  Lycurgus,  who  had 
been  maltreated  after  their  father's  death :  — 

"What  will  passers-by  say  when  they  see  this  tomb?  They  will 
say  :  '  This  man  was  a  sage  when  he  was  alive.  We  commissioned 
him  to  administer  the  finances,  and  he  found  revenues,  built  the 
theatre,  the  Odeon,  and  the  arsenals,  and  constructed  a  fleet  of  tri- 
remes and  some  harbors.  In  return,  the  city  has  heaped  infamy 
upon  him  and  thrown  his  children  into  a  dungeon.'  " 

,'  16.  Lycurgus.^ — This  Lycurgiis,  of  whom  Ilyperides  spoke  so 
nobly,  was  one  of  the  most  highly  respected  men  at  Athens,  and  cer- 
tainly one  of  the  purest  political  orators  of  this  heterogeneous  group. 
Vet  neither  his  life  nor  his  oratory  calls  for  long  study. 

1  \_¥r.  79  (76  in  the  third  edition).  — Tr.] 

"^  Editions  by  Scheibe  (Teubner);  and  by  Rehdantz  (Teubner,  1876,  with 
notes). 


Attic  Oratory  389 

Born  about  390,  of  the  illustrious  family  of  the  Eteobutadae,^  he 
was  the  pupil,  it  is  said,  of  Isocrates  and  Plato.    His  birth  and  riches  .^ 
freed  him  from  the  necessity  of  being  a  logographer.      He  entered 
heart  and  soul  into  politics,  as  the  ally  of  Demosthenes.      But  it  is 
only  after  the  coming  of  his  party  to  power  that  he  attained  his  full 
stature.     In  338  he  was  elected  commissary  of  the  military  appro- 
priations, perhaps;  or  more  probably,  president  of  the  college  of  com- 
missaries of  the  Theoric  fund ;  and  displayed,  as  an  administrator, 
the  qualities  that  enabled  him  to  find,  for  twelve  years,  as  Hyperides 
said,  the  revenues  for  magnificent  public  works.     He  died  of  disease  \ 
in  324,  on  the  eve  of  the  affair  of  Harpalus.      After  his  death,  Mene-    j 
sechmes,  his  successor  and  his  enemy,  had  his  children  condemned    / 
to  pay  a  heavy  fine,  under  pretext  of  a  deficit  left  by  him  in  the  / 
treasury.  / 

This  hatred  is  explained  in  part  by  the  character  of  Lycurgus. 
VHe  wished  above  all  to  be  a  champion  of  justice,  an  inflexible 
Befender  of  law.  The  thankless  role  of  public  prosecutor,  too  often 
Abandoned  to  sycophants,  was  decried.  He  took  it  up  courageously 
and  ennobled  it,  though  he  used  rather  excessive  severity.  The 
ancients  attributed  to  him  about  fifteen  orations,  which  were  nearly 
all  accusations.  The  only  one  still  extant  is  that  against  a  certain 
Leocrates,  who,  after  the  battle  of  Chaeronea,  had  stealthily  left 
Athens,  and  at  the  end  of  seven  or  eight  years  had  returned,  think- 
ing himself  forgotten.  But  Lycurgus  was  watching;  a  criminal 
accusation  was  brought  against  the  fugitive,  who  escaped  death  by 
a  majority  of  only  one  vote. 

The  oration  Against  Leocrates  shows  in  Lycurgus  a  pitiless 
reasoner^  animated  with  a  very  noble,  patriotic  passion,  which  is,  ^^ 
however,  savage,  and  at  times  sophistic  in  its  deductions.  Thus,  / 
scarcely  being  able  to  find  a  suitable  legal  charge  against  the  con- 
duct of  Leocrates,  he  had  recourse  to  the  plea  that,  if  no  particular 
law  seemed  applicable,  it  was  because  his  conduct  was  more  criminal 
than  the  acts  comprised  in  the  laws.  Such  a  theory  would  lead  one 
far  afield.  But  what  cannot  be  gainsaid  is,  on  the  one  hand,  the 
lofty,  impersonal  character  of  the  orator's  passion,  and,  on  the  other, 
the  logic,  now  subtle,  now  rigorous,  often  very  effective,  with  which 
he  steels  himself  to  make  odious  the  deeds  he  decries.  The  language 
is  in  harmony  with  the  thought  —  rigid,  firm,  and  somewhat  copious, 
yet  strong.      The  pupil  of  Isocrates  is  revealed  in  the  harmony  of 

1  [The  etymology  of  ihe  word  indicates  tliat  the  members  of  this  family  were 
the  real  descendants  of  Hutes  (trfos.  ^ovrris)  ;  and  the  last  part  in  turn  is  con- 
nected with  /SoCj  as  crTpanuTrji  with  (TTparid.  Bates  was,  accordingly,  a  cowherd. 
See  further  Deni.  p.  073,  1.  10  (Baiter  and  Sauppe)  ;  and  iEsch.  p.  47,  1.  39, 
same  edition.  —  Tr.  ] 


390  Ghreek  Literature 

the  sentences ;  but  the  redundant  slackness  of  the  master  gives  place 
in  the  pupil  to  a  pompous  clearness,  to  maxims  pronounced  with 
authority,  to  antitheses  recalling  Antiphon,  to  the  dilemmas  of  a 
skilled  logician.  The  character  of  Lycurgus,  howsoever  lofty,  cer- 
tainly lacked  charm ;  and  his  style  accurately  reflected  his  character 
in  these  respects. 

17.  Dinarchus.^  —  With  Dinarchus,  the  last  of  the  "  Ten  Orators  " 
of  the  Alexandrian  canon,  we  reach  the  close  of  oratory  proper,  and 
descend  one  more  degree ;  for  if  Lycurgus  is  not  the  equal  of  Hyper- 
ides,  Dinarchus  is  not  the  equal  of  Lycurgus.  He  may  not  have 
lacked  talent,  but  he  was  not  highly  original. 

Though  a  Corinthian  by  birth,  he  lived  at  Athens  as  a  metic; 
this  excluded  him  from  the  public  rostrum.  Therefore  he  became 
a  logographer.  He  seems  to  have  been  born  about  360.  He  was 
already  known  as  a  logographer  in  324,  at  the  time  of  the  affair  of 
Harpalus,  for  several  of  the  accusers  employed  him  to  compose  their 
orations.  After  the  death  of  Alexander,  his  celebrity  only  increased. 
To  him  were  attributed  more  than  one  hundred  and  sixty  orations. 
It  is  not  known  when  he  died. 

Of  his  very  numerous  works  we  have  but  three  orations.  They 
all  pertain  to  the  affair  of  Harpalus.  The  first,  directed  against 
Demosthenes,  is  full  of  interest,  owing  to  that  orator's  fame.  The 
other  two  seem  frigid.  Dinarchus  was  a  clever  orator,  who  used 
correctly  and  judiciously  the  examples  set  by  his  predecessors ;  but 
it  is  impossible  to  discover,  in  his  faultlessly  correct  language,  a 
really  personal  accent,  anything  that  adds  in  the  least  to  the 
oratorical  patrimony  of  Athens. 

18.  Demetrius  of  Phaleron.  Conclusion.  —  After  Dinarchus,  is 
there  need  of  mentioning  Demetrius  ?  He  was  not  included  in  the 
list  of  the  classics ;  and  he  was  not  merely  an  orator  and  statesman, 
but  also  a  philosopher  and  scholar.^  He  was  born  in  the  deme  of 
Phaleron  about  the  middle  of  the  fourth  century.  His  father  had  been 
a  slave,  but  had  become  a  wealthy  citizen.  He  received  a  most  care- 
ful education  as  the  pupil  and  friend  of  Theophrastus.  A  partisan 
of  Macedon,  he  became  all-powerful  under  Cassander,  and  governed 
Atliens  for  ten  years  (317-307).  Deposed  by  Poliorcetes,  he  retired 
to  the  court  of  Ptolemy  Soter  in  Egypt  and  gave  him,  it  is  said,  the 
idea  of  founding  the  Alexandrian  library.  He  fell  into  disgrace 
under  Philadelphus,  and  died  about  280.  He  left  various  writings, 
historical,  political,  and  literary  {History  of  Ten  Years,  On  Demagogy, 
Tthetoric,  etc.),  and  some  orations  which  were  still  read  in  the  time 

1  Edition  by  Bla.ss,  Teubner,  2d  ed.,  1888. 

-  Fragments  in  FrcKjm.  Hist.  Grcec.  by  Mliller,  sup.  cit.  vol.  II. 


Attic  Oratory  391 

of  Cicero  and  Quintilian.  Nothing  remains ;  but  we  know  that  his  or- 
atory was  pleasing  and  florid,  with  philosophical  tendencies.  Though 
an  Athenian,  he  was  almost  an  Alexandrian  in  his  energy,  erudi- 
tion, and  wit.  He  may  at  least  have  habitually  harangued  the  people. 
After  him,  Attic  oratory  ended.  It  was  ^hushed  with  the  loss  of 
Jibfiity-  The  art  of  the  logographers  became  a  trade  whose  every 
recipe  was  known.  The  oratory  of  declamation,  taking  refuge  in  the 
schools,  was  practised  only  by  the  teachers  of  rhetoric.  In  brief, 
there  was  no  longer  any  real  oratory,  and  above  all  none  that  was 
Attic.  In  every  type  of  composition,  true  Atticism  is  characterized 
by  predominance  of  nature  and  reason  over  artifice  and  bad  taste. 
The  great  beauty  of  Attic  oratory  was  due  to  the  fund  of  logic  and 
good  sense  to  which  each  orator,  according  to  his  own  tendencies, 
added  his  original  qualities  of  wit,  grace,  and  pathos.  Hence  it  is  an 
unequalled  oratorical  literature  —  not  always  truthful,  assuredly,  nor 
impartial ;  nor  yet  always  of  a  high  moral  tone,  or  fully  exempt 
from  sophistry  ;  but  splendid,  nevertheless,  because  its  manner  never 
suffered  decline,  and  sometimes  attained  sublimity.  Henceforth 
there  was  no  real  oratory.  Rhetoric  was  to  be  cultivated  still,  and 
that  with  ardor ;  but  more  and  more,  owing  to  the  lack  of  a  serious 
purpose,  it  began  to  spend  its  strength  in  empty  flourishes  of  wit  or 
in  the  seductions  of  fine  writing* 


CHAPTER  XXI 

COMEDY  IN  THE  FOURTH  CENTURY 

1.  General  View.  Traditional  Division  into  Middle  and  New  Comedy.  2.  Tran- 
sitional Period.  Attempts  to  write  Non-political  Comedy.  Its  Characteristics. 
3.  Poets  of  the  Transitional  Period.  Antiphanes  and  Alexis.  4.  Final 
Form  of  the  New  Comedy  :  its  Characteristics.  6.  The  Masters  of  the  New 
Comedy.     Philemon  and  Menander. 

1.  General  View.  Traditional  Division  into  Middle  and  New  Com- 
edy.^ —  In  a  preceding  chapter  we  left  comedy  at  the  beginning  of 
the  fourth  century  in  a  period  of  transformation ;  and  we  indicated 
briefly  the  principal  causes  of  that  transformation.  Now  that  we 
have  examined  the  general  movement  of  thought  in  the  century,  it 
is  time  to  return  to  comedy  and  finish  the  account. 

In  the  last  third  of  the  century,  in  the  time  of  Alexander,  and 
})articularly  after  his  death,  comedy,  transformed,  shone  forth  in  its 
greatest  brilliance  with  Menander  and  Philemon.  This  really  new 
form  of  the  antique  type  is  called  in  literature  the  New  Comedy,  in 
opposition  to  the  so-called  Old  Comedy  of  the  preceding  century. 
Between  the  two,  the  usage  has  become  established  of  distinguishing, 
under  the  name  of  Middle  Comedy,  an  intermediate  XQtIIU_conimenc- 
ing  with  the  fourth  century  and  continuing  till  330.  This  divi- 
sion of  the  history  of  comedy  appears  to  go  back  to  the  critics  of  the 
time  of  the  Empire  ;  or,  to  be  more  precise,  to  the  second  century  of 
our  era.  Perhai)S  it  is  even  older.  AVhen  once  established  it  was  per- 
])etuated  ;  it  was  classical  among  the  P>yzantines,  and  has  come  down 
to  us.  Yet  it  was  unknown  among  contemporaries  ;  Aristotle  opposes 
the  New  Comedy  to  tlie  Old,  but  does  not  speak  of  a  ^Middle  Com- 
edy. It  ]iiust  be  admitted  that  the  definitions  of  this  intermediate 
form  attempted  by  ancient  .and  modern  critics  are,  on  the  wliole, 
vague  and  unsatisfactory.  [  The  truth  is  that  the  New  Comedy  ap- 
])eared  as  early  as  the  beginning  of  the  fourth  century;  but,  like 
the  Old  Comedy,  it  passed  through  a  ])eriod  of  more  or  less  unsuc- 
cessful efforts  })receding  and  ])reparing  for  the  i>erio(l  of  tlie  master- 

1  Consult:  the  works  mentioned  in  connection  with  comedy,  p.  229,  and  also 
<i.  Guizot,  Menandre,  a  hi.storic  and  literary  study  treating  Greek  comedy  and 
Gnek  society,  Paris,  18-")-')  ;  Ficlitz.  De  Attirorum  Cnmu'dia  Tripartit'i.  l?onn, 
iHCf).  For  ancient  testimony,  see  the  iirolcgomena  of  the  Didot  Ari-itoplunirs. 
;uid  Kaibfl.  I'oetarum  Cumicdrum  Fnif/riu-nta,  I,  part  1. 

;'/.l2 


Coniedy  in  the  Fourth  Century  393 

pieces.  If  one  chooses,  one  may  speak  of  this  period  as  that  of 
Middle  Comedy  ;  but  the  distinction,  although  authorized  by  usage, 
has  more  disadvantages  than  advantagesTl  It  seems  to  give  to  a  sim- 
ple series  of  transitional  forms  the  same  importance  as  to  the  two 
groups  of  distinctly  characterized  works  between  which  they  occur. 
It  tends  to  make  us  believe  that  the  comedies  of  the  first  part  of  the 
fourth  century  are  equally  different  from  those  of  Aristophanes  and 
those  of  Menander ;  whereas,  in  reality,  they  differ  much  more  from 
the  former  than  from  the  latter. 

2.  The  Transitional  Period.  Attempts  to  ^tp  N"nn-pq)itical  Comedy. 
Its  Characteristics.  —  Discarding,  then,  a  term  that  has  no  value,  we 
must  recognize  that  the  New  Comedy  reaches  its  perfection  only  in 
the  last  third  of  the  fourth  century.  We  must,  accordingly,  give 
some  attention  to  the  long  period  of  transition  in  which  it  is  being 
elaborated,  with  a  view  to  defining  roughly  the  tendencies  of  that 
period. 

"What  best  characterizes  this  comedy  while  in  process  of  trans- 
formation is  the  abandonment  of  political  satire  and  of  extravagant 
fancy.  On  the  one  hand,  statesmen  and  public  affairs  are  no  longer 
introduced ;  and  on  the  other,  fairyland  and  the  inventions  of  buf- 
foonery are  given  up,  and  there  is  closer  approach,  as  time  goes  by, 
to  the  realities  of  life.  We  need  not  repeat  the  causes  of  these 
changes  ;  but  we  miTst  insist  somewhat  on  the  effects  produced. 

rmpppt.jHni^t;  in  comedy  were  held  in  the  fourth  century  almost 
as  in  the  fifth.  Their  perpetuation  is  attested  by  numerous  docu- 
ments,  epigraphic  and  literary.  But  we  see  that,  toward  the  middle 
of  the  century,  five  poets,  instead  of  three^  took  part  in  the  competi- 
tion. This  leads  to  the  "beTief  tliat  each  play  took  less  time  for  its 
representation  than  formerly.  Is  l],iy  fact  to  he  explained  by  the 
complete  disappearance  of  the  chorus  ?  The  testimony  of  the  critics 
and  grammarians  of  the  time  of  the  Empire  affirm  such  a  disappear- 
ance ;  but  it  is  contradicted  by  various  epigraphic  documents  and 
even  by  passages  from  contemporary  writers.  '  In  reality,  the  comic 
chorus  was  not  suppressed,  though  it  came  to  be  separated  almost 
entirely  from  the  action.  Its  importance  was  diminished  till  it 
merely  occupied  the  interludes  with  daMiTsrY~A"ftft''firat,  there  were 
no  more  parabases,  no  more  satiric  chants,  no  more  of  those  ample 
lyric  developments  which  once  formed  an  indis])cusal)le  part  of  the 
j)Iay.  The  length  of  time  necessary  was  naturally  lessened.  What 
is  more  important,  as  the  earlier  chorus  represented  the  fantastic 
element,  this  element  disappeared  with  the  functions  of  the  chorus. 
There  were  no  morejvasps^  clouds,,  birds ;  only  men  appeared  on  the 
scene,  and  in  the  orchestra,  only  a  group  of  ballet-dancers. 


394  Greek  Literature 

The  productions  of  the  poets  at  this  time  were  parodies  and  plays 
resembling  both  the  o-nmftdy  of  ma.m;)fira  a.nfl  t.l^j^l:  nf  int.ri^gp 

TJie  droll  characters  of  mythology  had  already  become  favorites 
with  certain  comic  poets  of  the  fifth  century.  Myths  illvistrated  by 
tragedy  were  turned  mio  farce ;  gods  and  heroes  were  travestied 
into  buffoons.  Cratinus,  even  Aristophanes,  and  most  of  all,  the  comic 
poet  Plato,  had  furnished  examples  of  this  comedy.  Throughout 
the  first  half  of  the  fourth  century,  one  might  have  believed  that 
parodies  would  be  henceforth  one  of  the  great  sources  of  comedy. 
In  fact,  nearly  all  the  legends  about  the  gods  had  apparently  been 
laid  under  contribution.  The  comic  process  consisted  chiefly,  it 
seems,  in  representing  gods  and  heroes  as  ordinary  burghers.  With- 
out need  of  coarseness  or  extravagance,  the  very  contrast  between 
the  conventional  grandeur  of  the  characters  and  the  commonplace 
features  of  their  role  provoked  laughter.  Hence  the  poets  sought 
especially  legends  permitting  them  to  show  their  characters  in  the 
most  trivial  aspects :  births,  marriages,  banquets,  and  gallant  adven- 
tures. Sometimes  allusions  to  things  of  the  day  were  concealed  by 
such  allegorical  inventions ;  but  this  was  not  essential,  and  perhaps 
unusual.  Parody  in  general  had  to  be  content  with  being  parody. 
In  turning  myths  to  ridicule,  there  was  no  intention  of  impious 
conduct ;  public  opinion  would  not  have  permitted  it.  Yet,  whether 
the  intention  were  there  or  no,  mythology  could  only  lose  respect  by 
being  thus  treated.  The  auccess,  of  such  artificiaLliQia^dy  appears 
to  have  been  transient ;  and  when  the  New  Comedy  was  really 
perfected,  the  practice  was  discontinued. 

The  novel  feature  of  the  comedy  of  the  fourth  century  consisted 
in  tKe  repjgSpnt^alTO^]  nf  chara^.tf^r  "and  r.lns'fpatnrp.  appears  even  in 
the  first  half  of  the  century.  At  first  superficial,  it  progressed 
steadily  till  the  time  of  Meuander,  when  it  attained  its  jperfection.  J 

A  large  number  of  the  plays  assigned  to  Middle  Comedy  have 
titles  designating  a  trade,  a  social  condition,  or  a  country  :  The  Peas- 
ant, The  Seamstress,  TJie  Flute-player,  The  Boeotian  Womaii,  Tlie  Byzan- 
tine, Tfie  Painter,  The  Coachman,  TJie  Soldier,  etc.  An  equally  large 
number  get  their  title  from  some  particular  adventure,  the  mental 
state  of  one  of  the  personages,  or  a  characteristic  detail  of  the  action  ; 
as,  TJie  Enemy  of  Vice,  Brothers  of  Kin,  TJie  Twins,  The  Treasure,  TJie 
Outrage,  etc.  Without  pretending  to  draw  too  precise  conclusions, 
we  can  at  least  affirm  two  things.  First,  all  the  plays  had  a  funda- 
mental setting  taken  from  ordinary  life.  The  representation  was  of 
things  that  happened  or  could  happen  every  day  :  a  peasant,  slightly 
foolish,  comes  to  the  city  and  there  is  duped  or  made  sport  of ;  or 
two  men  have  the  same  name,  whence  result  ridiculous  confusions. 


Comedy  in  the  Fourth  Century  395 

Second,  character-painting  was  one  of  the  necessary  elements ;  for 
the  adventures  represented  could  not  be  given  an  air  of  verisimili- 
tude and  made  interesting  unless  the  people  to  whom  they  happened 
were  real  persons. 

But  this  representation  of  character  was  still  elementary  and 
superficial.  It_wa8  impossible  to  pass  at  once  from  the  extreme  of  _ 
fantasy  to  delicate  and  profound  observation.  Tlie  poets  of  the 
fimp  |>rAQf.^7n^,  TIUP^'^^^'  ^^  conventional  typesTand  the  generation  fol- 
lowing did  not  disdain  to  profit  thereby.  Such  types  were  the  Para- 
site, the  Boastful  Soldier,  the  Slave-merchant,  and  the  Cook.  It  is 
probable  that  many  others  were  sketched  also,  old  men  and  young 
men,  slaves  and  courtesans.  In  all  this,  the  poets  probably  amused 
their  audience  by  a  semblance  of  jesting  truthfulness,  instead  of 
captivating  it  by  true  moral  interest.  Except  in  a  few  passages,  per- 
haps, the  characters  did  not  display  all  the  elements  of  their  nature ; 
they  had  more  of  the  externally  ridiculous  than  of  true  sentiment. 
What  they  all  lacked  was  the  fundamental  element  which  consti- 
tutes the  man  himself. 

Consequently  we  may  conjecture  the  nature  of  the  intrigue. 
Greeks  who  had  read  Euripides  and  seen  his  tragedies  represented 
again  and  again  would  not  be  embarrassed  in  making  ingenious 
combinations  of  events.  Many  of  the  titles  cited  above  suggest  the 
idea  of  complicated  situations.  But  as  the  value  of  a  delicate  paint- 
ing of  sentiment  was  not  yet  sufficiently  well  appreciated,  the  in- 
trigues were  not  combined  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  them  plausible. 
The  poets,  when  inventing  the  action  of  their  comedies,  aimed  rather 
at  situations  purely  comical  than  at  such  as  would  show  the  fun- 
damental character  of  the  personages.  It  was  not  the  science  of 
intrigvie  that  was  wanting  so  much  as  a  clear  idea  of  its  proper 
functions. 

3.  Poets  of  the  Transitional  Period.  Antiphanes  and  Alexis.^  —  A 
considerable  number  of  representatives  of  this  transitional  comedy 
are  knoAvn  to  us  by  name ;  we  have  also  a  few  fragments  of  their 
works ;  but  this  does  not  suffice  to  give  a  precise  idea  of  each  one. 
We  shall  distinguish  here,  as  being  more  celebrated  than  the  others, 
only  two,  Antiphanes  and  Alexis. 

l^ovn  toward  the  close  of  the  fifth  century,  Antiphanes  was 
probably  an  Asiatic  Greek.  He  lived  till  about  330,  and  was  conse-  .  , 
quently  a  contemporaiy  of  Plato,  Isocrates,  and  even  Demosthenes.  /\ 
Some  attributed  to  him  two  hundred  and  eighty  comedies  ;  others, 
three  hundred  and  sixty-five.  Such  abundance  is  scarcely  compat- 
ible with  the  scruples  of  exact  art.  Antiphanes  worked  with  speed. 
1  Fragments  in  the  collections  mentioned  on  p.  229. 


396  Greek  Literature 

Tameness   and  negligence  were  the  necessary  consequences  of  his 
haste.     He  won,  it  is  said,  only  thirteen  victories.    Part  of  his  plays,\ 
as  the  existing  titles  show,  were  parodies  of  mythology;  his  collec-l 
tion,  then,  marked  the  culmination  of  this  somewhat  vulgar  type/ 
Another  part  must  have  represented  types  from  among  the  people. 
The  impression  we  obtain  to-day  from  his  fragments  is  but  moder- 
ately favorable.     The  talent  they  show  is  scarcely  more  than  an  apti- 
tude for  appropriating  certain  forms  of  trite  pleasantry.      He  is 
prolix  and  monotonous ;  his  principal  merit  seems  to  be  his  elegant 
facility.    He  can  turn  well  a  reflection,  sometimes  give  a  very  piquant 
form  to  ideas  otherwise  commonplace,  and  amuse  his  public  for  the 
moment  by  effects  of  style  or  invention.     He  is,  in  brief,  a  poet  of  the 
second  order,  without  marked  originality. 

Alexis  is  younger  by  perhaps  twenty  years,  and  seems  to  have 
been  the  superior.  Born  at  Thurii  in  Magna  Graecia,  and  later  natu- 
ralized at  Athens,  he  was,  as  we  learn  from  Suidas,  the  uncle  of 
Menander  and  his  master  in  dramatic  art.  His  long  life  of  more 
than  a  hundred  years  extended  over  the  whole  fourth  century.  The 
same  biographer  attributes  to  him  two  hundred  and  forty-five  com- 
edies. The  small  number  of  mythological  subjects  he  treated  is 
worthy  of  remark.  It  is  probable  that  he  was  among  those  who 
freed  comedy  from  its  vagueness  of  character  and  assigned  it  defi- 
nitely to  its  new  domain.  A  large  number  of  his  fragments  show 
clever  sprightliness,  amusing  variety,  or  vivacity  of  invention.  His 
fantasy,  taking  a  discreet  form,  is  fine  and  really  agreeable.  Tlie 
Education  of  Heracles  by  Linus  (fr.  l.So,  Kock)  is  a  pretty  scene 
throughout.  There  is  more  joyous  good  humor  than  force  or  pene- 
tration. None  of  his  fragments  attest  any  particular  power  of 
observation  or  intense  study  of  reality.  He  must  rather  have 
sketched  certain  pleasing  types  vividly  and  roughly  than  given  details 
of  character  and  sentiment.  Another  ancient  writer,  whose  testi- 
mony is  denied,  however,  by  Atheuieus,^  saj^s  that  he  created  the 
character  of  the  parasite.  Evidently  in  him  the  type  took  on  a 
deeper  relief,  as  did  probably  that  of  the  boastful  cook,  and  several 
others. 

4.  Final  Form  of  the  New  Comedy :  its  Characteristics.  —  From 
about  330,  tlie  time  when  the  poets  we  have  mentioned  were  disap- 
pearing or  growing  old,  the  New  Comedy  reached  its  perfection. 
l^)efore  speaking  of  the  men  who  made  it  brilliant,  it  will  be  well  to 
characterize  summarily  the  type. 

The  essential  tendency  of  the  period  we  have  just  studied  was 
reaching   its   climax.  /  We   have,   then,   substantially  a  comedy   of 
1  Athensus,  VI,  235  E. 


Comedy  in  the  Fourth  Century  397 

intrigue,  yet  one  that  aims  to  imitate  contemporary  life.  System- 
atically neglecting  public  affairs,  which  more  and  more  lost  their 
importance,  it  takes  its  subjects  from  everyday  experience.  *^lMkt 
_it  seeks  to  find  here  is  the  truth  about  human  nature.  This  is  its 
really  distinctive  quality.  J^'or  sixty  years  comedy  had  shown  a  ten- 
dency to  come  closer  to  real  life;  but  too  often  the  journey  was 
broken  off  in  the  mTddle,  with  a  comedy  of  convention.  Menander 
and  Philemon  definitely  brought  comedy  to  represent  the  real  world 
The  never  ending  descriptions  of  feasts,  the  parodies,  the  sham 
philosophical  discussions,  the  conventional  jests,  the  high-sounding 
babble  of  cooks  or  swaggering  soldiers,  the  long  tales  of  parasites  — 
all  that  had  amused  two  generations  of  Athenians  from  the  end 
of  the  Peloponnesian  War  till  the  advent  of  Alexander  —  appeared 
artificial  when  the  truth  was  discovered.  If  aught  of  the  artificial 
was  retained,  it  was  in  the  way  of  brief  episodes,  wholly  secondary ; 
the  interest  henceforth  was  in  something  else.  As  soon  as  the 
Athenians  had  seen  the  true  image  of  the  life  of  Athens,  and  behind 
it  the  image  of  human  life  in  those  features  that  are  universally 
attractive,  it  no  longer  cared  for  anything  else. 

LS^'ithin  these  limits,  the  subject  surpassing  all  others  came  of 
itself  or  forced  its  way ;  it  wasJfls;&(->.  A  passion  belonging  to  every 
day  of  every  generation ;  which  reveals,  in  every  person  whom  it 
touches,  his  true  nature ;  which  enhances  the  charm  and  the  ardor 
of  youth ;  which  makes  old  age  sometimes  attractive,  though  more 
often  ridiculous;  which  brings  into  play  a  thousand  domestic  inter- 
ests; which  gives  rise  to  project  after  project;  which  has  constant 
need  of  expedients  and  of  intrigue ;  which  is  more  powerful  than  any 
otlier  passion ;  and  which,  withal,  often  borders  on  the  pathetic  with- 
out departing  from  the  limits  of  the  comical,  —  this  was  precisely  the 
element  needed  by  the  new  poets.  \Xi0ve  became  the  essential  ele- 
ment of  all  their  plays.  Unfortunately,  Athenian  public  opinion 
scarcely  allowed  the  representation  of  legitimate  love ;  it  would  not 
have  sanctioned  the  frank  unveiling  of  domestic  life.  Hence  re- 
course to  irregular  amours  was  inevitable.  Comedy  lost  thereby, 
not  in  moral  quality  alone,  but  also  in  variety. 

The  intrigue  was  ingenious,  adroitly  developed,  and  varied,  and 
henceforth  in  no  danger  of  being  lost  in  an  excessive  multiplicity 
of  events  tending  to  relegate  to  the  background  the  depiction  of  sen- 
timents. The  imitations  by  the  Roman  poets,  Plautus  and  Terence, 
give  us  a  fairly  clear  idea  of  what  in  general  this  intrigue  must  have 
been.  But  let  us  not  overlook  the  differences.  The  Latin  plays 
abound  more  in  episodes,  and  are  more  complicated.  Their  authors 
follow  closely  the  Greek  play  that  they  choose  as  their  basis;  but 


398  Greek  Literature 

they  add  here  and  there  scenes  obtained  from  elsewhere.  On  the 
whole,  Greek  comedy  must  have  been  more  simple.  \_A  single  dra- 
matic idea  was  developed,  and  all  the  action  arose  out  of  it.  The 
audience  always  enjoyed  recognitions.  There  were  few  plays  in  which 
some  secret  was  not  finally  disclosed  which  would  help  on  an  interest- 
ing amoui;,J  One  of  the  ordinary  types  was  as  follows :  A  young  man 
takes  a  fancy  for  a  young  woman  who  is  a  stranger.  Various  obsta- 
cles hinder  the  realization  of  his  wishes  —  her  social  condition,  the 
want  of  money,  the  opposition  of  a  father  or  guardian.  A  cunning 
slave  aids  the  young  man ;  success  and  failure,  "hope  and  despair, 
come  to  him  in  turn ;  finally  it  is  discovered  that  the  young  woman 
is  free-born ;  and  the  whole  affair  ends  in  a  marriage.  This  could  be 
varied  in  a  thousand  ways ;  and  herein  the  Athenian  poets  excelled. 
They  can  be  thought  of  as  curious  searchers,  always  on  the  watch 
for  diversity.  A  lawsuit,  a  windfall,  an  abduction,  an  unforeseen 
circumstance,  an  inheritance,  a  stroke  of  fortune,  a  love  adventure, 
a  false  setting  revealed  by  some  chance  indiscretion, — these  were 
vividly  conceived  and  offered  many  a  suggestion,  which  the  poets 
could  appropriate  to  their  needs,  modifying  and  perfecting  what 
reality  had  sketched. 

The  tendency  to  imitate  life  was  but  moderately  favorable  to  the 
creation  of  characters  with  a  decided  turn.  An  Alceste,  a  Tartuffe, 
a  Harpagon,^  is  scarcely  to  be  found  in  real  life  as  pictured  in  litera-' 
ture ;  nature  outlines  and  rarefies  the  traits  which  genius  and  ideal- 
ism alone  can  well  portray.  The  poets  of  that  time  had  no  idea  of 
such  a  thing.  What  tliey  represented  was  chiefly  those  ways  of 
thinking  and  feeling  in  wliich  all  men  are  alike ;  and  in  the  general 
resemblance,  the  differences  which  they  portrayed  most  vividly  were 
those  due  to  age,  sex,  social  condition,  circumstances  of  relationship, 
or  imaginary  situations,  rather  than  to  character  itself.  In  their 
repertoire  were  found  three  or  four  types  of  fathers,  two  or  three  of 
young  men,  as  many  of  slaves  and  courtesans,  two  or  three  of  mar- 
ried women,  etc.  In  each  category,  the  usual^tcaits-iKexft-^ftven  pre- 
cedence over  Jjie-uiiusual.  The  analogies,  which  strike  us  even  in 
the  imitations  of  Latin  comedy,  were  made  more  striking  still  by 
the  masks  of  the  actors.  One  should  read  Pollux  {Onomasticon, 
Bk.  IV,  113)  for  an  interesting  enumeration  of  the  masks  of  the  Xew 
Comedy.  They  denoted  by  their  very  appearance  what  was  typical 
of  the  role;  this  met  one's  gaze  at  the  beginning.  The  individual 
was  revealed  but  gradually  by  his  words  or  actions,  and  remained 
always  subordinate. 

Here  there  was  danger  of  monotony,  but  the  cleverness  of  the 
^  [These  are  all  characters  in  the  plays  of  Moli^re.  —  Tr.] 


Comedy  in  the  Fourth  Century  399 

Attic  mind  avoided  it.  The  poets  gave  their  personages,  instead  of 
thoroughly  full  characterization,  a  philosophy  of  life  which  varied 
with  their  instincts  and  situations.  It  is  a  pleasure  to  see  in  the 
existing  fragments,  diversity,  boldness,  grace,  sometimes  even  pro- 
fundity, and  especially  delicate  fitness  of  the  reflections  spoken  by 
the  personages.  With  great  tact  and  cleverness,  the  poets  modify 
infinitely  the  view-point  from  which  things  are  seen  and  the  result- 
ing opinions,  keeping  account  not  only  of  permanent  differences  in 
age,  sex,  and  situation,  but  also  in  moods,  humor,  and  the  play  of 
personal  sentiments.  Hence  a  really  dramatic  variety  is  seen  every- 
where in  the  representation  of  characters  apparently  identical. 
Fathers  indulgent  and  fathers  severe,  those  that  are  deceived  and 
those  that  expose  themselves  to  deception,  are  substantially  the  same 
everywhere ;  but  in  the  motives  for  their  indulgence  or  their  severity, 
and  in  the  degrees  and  phases,  how  many  delicate  differences,  amus- 
ing and  skilfully  imitated  from  the  truth  !  — 

Thus  constituted,  was  comedy  really  comic  ?  To  be  sure,  it  no 
longer  excited  the  noisy^  tumultuous  laughter  of  the  Old  Comedy ; 
but  this  is  not  saying  that  it  ceased  to  amuse.  It  was  amusing,  just 
as  life  itself  is  at  times,  because  it  showed  the  deception  of  over- 
confiding  persons,  the  ridiculous  catastrophes  into  which  fools  run, 
or  the  embarrassment  of  baffled  deceivers.  It  had  also,  as  if  by  in- 
heritance, stock  characters  whose  ordinary  function  was  to  raise  a 
laugh :  the  parasite,  the  blustering  soldier,  and  above  all,  the  intrigu- 
ing slave,  who  duped  the  old  father  for  the  benefit  of  the  son,  and 
was  really  unsurpassed  in  boldness,  presence  of  mind,  clever  feints, 
and  resourceful  inventions.  He  gave  rise  to  the  long  lineage  of 
Scapins,  to  whom  he  remained  superior;  these  have  become  liberated 
convicts  and  real  bandits ;  he  was  only  an  unscrupulous  ragamuffin, 
with  the  vices  of  his  station,  and  the  excuses  which  that  station 
allows.  Moreover,  good  sentiments  were  not  always  absent  from 
his  character. 

Throughout  the  New  Comedy  there  is  perceptible  the  spirit  of 
Epicureanism.  In  the  characters,  in  the  ideas,  and  perhaps  in  the 
development  ^of  the  plays,  one  finds  it  in  the  part  conventionally 
attributed  to  chance  (rvx??)-  It  is  not,  however,  theoretic,  systematic 
Epicureanism,  but  rather  the  practical  phase,  often  unconscious  and 
inconsistent,  as  it  really  existed  in  a  society  in  which  the  discipline 
of  life  was  singularly  lax,  beliefs  were  ])lastic  and  indefinite,  and 
habits  had  more  force  than  principles.  Instead,  therefore,  of  mak- 
ing cold  or  heavy  the  dramas  it  inspired,  it  gave  them  an  air  of 
naturalness;  and  so  it  furnishes  us  interesting  testimony  concerning 
a  state  of  mind  then  very  common. 


400  Greek  Literature 

From  the  point  of  view  of  moralitj^it  is  a  delicate  question  to 
decide  whether  the  New  Comedy Ismferi or  or  superior  to  the  old. 
The  latter,  coarse  and  offensive  as  it  was,  had  a  purpose  clearly  dis- 
tinguished from  its  buffoonery.  It  extolled  political  honesty,  sim- 
plicity of  character,  and  the  stanch  virtue  of  the  old  poets.  On  the 
whole,  it  was  a  sane  and  vigorous  satire.  There  is  nothing  to  match 
this  in  the  New  Comedy.  The  latter  represented  what  is  ridiculous 
or  feeble,  such  as  passion  that  is  not  sufficiently  controlled.  The 
spectacle,  with  its  vivid  reality,  is  both  amusing  and  monitory.  lAn 
intelligent  man  would  strengthen  himself  in  good  sense,  prudence, 
and  moderation  by  contemplating  it  —  and  still  more  so,  if  the 
situations  were  chosen  and  composed  with  the  design  of  making 
them  instructive.  But  the  instruction,  it  must  be  acknowledged, 
was  of  no  very  high  order^J  The  ingenious  poets  show  well  how 
villanous  is  the  miser,  how  ridiculous  is  superstition,  how  disagree- 
able to  others  and  to  himself  the  boor  becomes;  they  show  us  how 
easily  fathers  are  duped ;  they  put  before  us  the  advantages  and 
disadvantages  of  severity  and  indulgence,  and  depict  the  giddiness 
and  excessiveness  of  youth.  It  is  a  leasoa-of-e^gjerience,  and  noth- 
ing more ;  yet  a  delicate  lesson,  amusing  and  profitable  to  the  right- 
/"'minded.  It  increases  their  store  of  practical  ideas,  exercises  their^ 
/  judgment,  and  enlarges  their  knowledge  of  the  world  ;  but  it  provokes  \ 
\^  no  lofty  reflections  and  no  sentiments  of  generosity.  / 

5.  The  Masters  of  the  New  Comedy.  Philemon  and  Menander.^  — 
This  comedy  had  numerous  representatives  whose  names  have  been 
transmitted  to  us.  The  most  illustrious  are  Di])hilus  of  Sinope,  who 
was  imitated  several  times  by  Plautus ;  Apollodorus  of  Carystus  in 
Euboea,  who  furnished  Terence  the  original  of  the  Phormio  and  the 
Ilecyra  ;  Philemon  and  Menander;  and  lastly  Posidippus  of  Cassan- 
drea-  in  ^Nlacedon,  who  belonged  to  the  following  century.  We  shall 
consider  here  only  Philemon  and  Menander. 

Phijenioiij  born  probably  in  Cilicia  in  .%1,  made  his  appearance 
at  Athens,  we  are  told,  about  .3.30.  He  lived  there  afterward  at  the 
Pira-us,  attaining  a  very  advanced  age;  according  to  .Elian  he  died 
in  2C)'2.  A  fertile  poet,  he  composed  at  least  ninety  comedies.  Sixty 
are  still  known  by  title  and  by  some  fragments.  ^NFost  of  them  were 
received  with  favor.     Pliilemon  even  won  victories  over  Menander. 

^  Fratrincnts  in  the  collections  mentionfd  above.  In  the  Didot  Collection, 
those  of  Slt-nandor  are  added  to  the  vohune  containing  the  fragments  of  Aris- 
tophanes. 

rousult :  Ci.  Guizot,  cited  p.  .392  ;  Renoit,  Essai  historiqiu-  ct  littcraire  aur  la 
rnweilir  dr  Mpnandrc,  Paris.  1854  ;  Weil.  Etudes  siir  Vantiquite  grecque,  Paris, 
li*0(». 

-  [This  is  the  later  name  of  Potidiea  in  Chalcidice.  — Tr.] 


Comedy  in  the  Fourth  Century  401 

Plautus  closely  imitated  him  in  several  of  his  works :  the  MerccUor 
is  a  more  or  less  exact  copy  of  his  "Efnropos,  the  Trhmmmus  of  his 
©T/o-aupos,  and  perhaps  the  Mostellaria  of  his  4»a(r/xa.  He  had  an 
inventive,  clever  genius ;  but  he  was  occupied  as  much,  if  not  more, 
with  intrigue  as  with  the  drawing  of  character.  If  he  created  amus- 
ing and  varied  situations,  his  characters  were  vaguely  outlined  and 
lacked  relief.  He  concealed  the  defect  by  the  wit  and  grace  of  his 
dialogue,  by  the  brilliant  vivacity  of  his  reflections,  by  an  imagina- 
tion naturally  elegant  and  amusing,  and  by  skill  in  the  employment 
of  that  philosophy  of  life  of  which  we  have  already  spoken. 

Menander  ranks  high  above  Philemon.  He  is  the  real  master  of 
the  ^eYL.C9ine.dy>  the  successor  of  AristophanesTii  thu  &tiitig  of  gicAt 
comic  poets.  The  misfortune  which  has  deprived  us  of  his  works 
does  not  hinder  us  completely  from  appreciating  aright  his  merit. 

He  was  born  at  Athens  a  little  before  340,  and  so  was  about  twenty 
years  younger  than  Philemon.  His  father,  Diopithes  of  Cephisia, 
seems  to  have  left  him  a  considerable  fortune.  Being  the  nephew  of 
the  poet  Alexis  already  mentioned,  he  received  from  him,  it  is  said, 
the  first  lessons  in  his  art.  In  philosophy  he  came  uiider  the  in- 
fluence of,Theophrastus  and  Epicurus.  His  first  play  was  presented 
in  322,  about  a  year  after  the  death  of  Alexander  the  Great.  The 
sad  events  oF  which  Greece  was  then  the  theatre  do  not  seem  to  have 
occupied  the  young  poet  much.  Elegant,  leisurely,  and  fond  of 
pleasure,  he  devoted  himself  to  the  celebrated  Glycera,  and  lived 
near  her  in  her  villa  at  the  Pireeus.  Ptolemy  Soter  tried  in  vain  to 
induce  him  to  come  to  Egypt;  Athens  alone  delighted  and  detained 
him.  He  was  handsome  except  for  being  cross-eyed.  As  a  delicate 
Epicurean,  he  gave  his  attention  to  his  dress  and  his  gait.  His  only 
serious  occupation  appears  to  have  been  the  writing  of  comedies. 
Within  a  period  of  about  thirty  years,  till  his  death  in  292,  he  com- 
posed more  than  a  hundred,  an  average  of  more  than  three  a  year.  We 
learn  from  Apollodorus  that  he  obtained  the  first  prize  in  only  eight 
competitions.  Philemon  pleased  the  people  more;  but  Menander 
had  on  his  side  the  favor  of  the  educated,  and  he  seems  to  have 
had  a  high  idea  of  his  superiority.  *'  One  day,"  says  Aulus  Gellius, 
"  he  met  Philemon,  who  had  just  obtained  the  first  prize.  'Tell  me 
frankly,  Pliilemon,'  he  asked,  *  when  you  win  away  from  me,  are  you 
satisfied  with  yourself  ?  '  '' 

No  ])lay  of  ^lenander's  has  come  down  to  us.  At  most,  we  can 
judge  of  him  to  some  extent  from  Plautus  and  Terence.  The  former 
borrowed  from  him  the  Bacchides  (ilts  i$a7raTwv)  and  the  >>tichiis 
(<I>iAa8€A</)os),  perhaps  also  the  Pomulus  {Kapxq^ovio^) ;  the  latter 
the  Aiulria,  the  Adelphoe,  and  the  Ileaatoiitimorouinoios.  Besides, 
2d 


402  Greek  Literature 

we  have  a  large  number  of  fragments  of  lost  plays.  We  may  cite 
particularly  those  of  the  Laborer,  published  in  1898  from  the  debris 
of  an  Egyptian  papyrus.  Among  those  current  in  antiquity  must  be 
distinguished  the  Fvui/Aat  iiov6(tti.xo>->  ^  collection  of  various  maxims 
formed  in  the  Roman  period,  when  the  authentic  verses  were 
mingled  with  others  of  uncertain  origin. 

There  is  no  need  to  insist  on  the  merits  of  Menander's  plays  in 
point  of  structure.  We  can  judge  only  from  the  imitations  of  Ter- 
ence, which  are  closer  than  those  of  Plautus ;  but  Terence  combined 
with  the  plays  which  he  reproduced  certain  scenes  of  different  origin. 
Menander  seems  to  have  possessed  a  high  degree  of  dramatic  in- 
stinct. Perhaps,  however,  his  invention  of  comic  situations  was 
inferior  to  JPluIfimon's. 

His  great  superiority,  beyond  doubt,  was  in  the  painting  of 
character.  AH  the  ancient  critics  are  ummimous  on  the  point.  All 
who  could  read  him  praise  his  exquisite  truthfulness  and  the  per- 
fect naturalness  of  the  sentiments  which  he  gave  to  his  creations. 
With  remarkable  dexterity,  he  could  express,  in  language  always 
elegant  and  appropriate  to  each  particular  role,  differences  of  judg- 
ment, of  tone,  and  of  humor.  All  his  characters  had  a  certain  grace, 
which  was  the  poet's  original  gift.  They  all  spoke  the  same  grace- 
ful, easy  language,  ingenious,  familiar,  and  in  good  taste.  Now  it 
was  tender  and  passionate ;  now  grave,  strong,  bitter ;  now  ironical 
and  satiric  ;  and  now  gay,  playful,  brilliant,  full  of  fancy  and  spright- 
liness.  The  j)Ower  of  exciting  emotion  was  his  as  truly  as  the  sense 
of  the  comical.  Caesar,  speaking  of  the  lloman  poet  Terence  in  a 
celebrated  epigram,  declares  him  inferior  to  Menander,  because  of 
a  lack  of  force.  This  was  recognizing  completely  the  merit  of  the 
Greek  original. 

The  striking  truth  of  the  sentiments,  the  dramatic  vivacity,  the 
appreciation  of  real  life,  are  still  evident  in  the  large  number  of  frag- 
ments that  we  possess.  Unhappily,  most  of  them  have  been  pre- 
served only  because  of  expressing  some  general  truth.  Therefore, 
in  a  way,  it  is  only  the  most  impersonal  element  of  his  works  that 
we  know.  P)ut  for  this  very  reason,  tl:e  fragments  cause  us  to 
admire  his  manner  of  giving  a  new  turn  to  traditional  and  current 
phrases.  Tie  makes  us  feel,  even  beneath  what  is  commonplace,  the 
extraordinary  humor  of  the  personage  he  describes.  His  type  of 
cral^bed  man  cries  out :  — 

"If  some  one  of  the  gods  should  come  and  say  to  me:  'Crato, 
when  you  are  dead,  you  are  going  to  be  born  again.  Then,  whatever 
you  wish  to  be,  that  you  shall  be,  dog,  sheep,  goat,  man,  or  horse. 
You  have  another  life  in  store.     This  is  your  destiny  :  choose  what 


Comedy  in  the  Fourth  Century  403 

you  wish.'  *  Then  make  me,'  I  should  cry  out  at  once,  'anything  but 
a  man.  Among  living  beings,  man  is  the  only  one  whose  weal  and 
woe  have  nothing  in  common  with  justice.  If  a  horse  is  excellent, 
it  is  better  cared  for  than  the  others.  If  you  are  a  good  dog,  you 
will  be  prized  much  more  than  a  bad  one.  A  good  fighting-cock  is 
fed  differently  from  the  cowardly  one  that  trembles  before  his  supe- 
rior. But  a  man,  in  this  life,  though  honest,  well-born,  and  noble, 
is  not  profited  thereby.  He  who  succeeds  best  is  the  flatterer ;  next 
best,  the  sycophant ;  and  then  the  wicked  man.  Better  be  an  ass 
than  to  see  your  inferiors  outshining  you  in  splendor.' " 

In  short,  it  amounts  to  saying  that  success  does  not  by  any  means 
come  to  reward  merit.  The  thought  was  not  in  itself  original,  even 
in  the  time  of  Menander.  But  how  true  to  life  seems  the  exasper- 
ated fellow,  who  takes  pleasure  in  his  prejudices,  develops  his  idea 
to  excess,  with  all  his  heart,  all  his  imagination,  all  his  feelings  of 
resentment !  Dramatic  truth  is  what  gives  value  to  such  thoughts 
much  more  than  their  real  worth;  and  it  is  here  most  happily 
emphasized,  even  to  plenitude  of  comical  effect. 

Though  admirable  in  the  comedy  of  manners,  Menander  does  not 
seem  to  have  risen  above  his  contemporaries  in  the  direction  of  the 
comedy  of  character.  Most  of  his  personages  are  from  the  common 
ranks  of  humanity.  Personal  traits,  though  delicately  indicated, 
were  not  strong  nor  deep  enough  to  create  those  great  dramatic 
individuals  who  stand  contrasted  so  clearly  with  the  common  type. 
To  this  very  fact  is  due,  perhaps,  part  of  the  great  influence  he 
exercised  after  his  death.  In  him  more  than  in  any  other,  Greek 
comedy,  though  manifesting  its  own  particular  qualities,  became 
largely  human.  It  represented  man  in  general,  under  the  aspects 
that  are  everywhere  the  same  or  nearly  so ;  and  it  studied  man  with 
a  sympathy  which  even  its  mockery  does  not  overshadow.  The 
celebrated  verse  of  Terence,  Homo  sum,  humani  nihil  a  me  alienmn 
puto,^  indicates  very  well  one  of  the  qualities  that  do  him  greatest 
honor. 

1  [Human  myself,  I  interest  myself  in  all  that  is  human.  — Tr.] 


CHAPTER   XXII 

NON-DRAMATIC   POETRY  IN  THE  FIFTH  AND  FOURTH  CENTURIES 

1.  Persistence  of  the  Ancient  Poetic  Types  in  the  Fifth  and  Fourth  Centuries. 
2.  Transformation  of  Lyric  Poetry  in  the  Fifth  Century.  The  Dithyramb 
and  the  Nome.  Lyric  Representations.  3.  The  Chief  Dithyrambic  and 
Nomic  Poets  of  the  Fifth  and  Fourth  Centuries.  4.  Otlier  Lyric  Types. 
The  Elegy  and  the  Iamb.  5.  Epic  in  the  Fifth  and  Fourth  Centuries. 
Panyasis  ;  Antimachus  ;  Choerilus. 

1.  Persistence  of  the  Ancient  Poetic  Types  in  the  Fifth  and 
Fourth  Centuries.  —  We  have  been  obliged  to  lay  aside,  in  the  pre- 
ceding chapters,  from  the  beginning  of  the  fifth  century,  the  his- 
tory of  the  various  poetic  types  that  were  foreign  to  the  theatre, 
such  as  lyric  and  epic  poetry.  It  was  necessary  to  call  attention 
first  to  what  was  more  important,  tragedy  and  comedy  on  the  one 
hand,  and  oratory,  history,  and  philosophy  on  the  other.  We 
may  go  back  now  for  a  rapid  review  of  other  forms  of  literary  pro- 
duction. Por  though  they  are  of  less  importance,  they  cannot  be 
quite  neglected. 

Lyric  poetry,  be  it  remembered,  had  been  particularly  brilliant  in 
the  beginning  of  the  fifth  century,  the  time  of  Simonides,  Pindar, 
and  Bacchylides.  Tragedy^.in  ijs_d_evelo£meirL  eclipsed  lyj-ic  pnet^-, 
but  could  not  render  it  useless.  There  were  lyric  forms  assigned  by 
tradition  to  ancient  religious  or  civil  iises ;  and  here  the  drama  could 
not  take  the  place  of  the  lyric  type.  The  latter  was  necessary  also 
for  festivals,  for  the  celebration  of  great  events,  for  banquets,  and 
for  various  other  functions  of  social  life.  The  usages  of  bygone 
times,  still  continuing,  gave  rise  to  sincere  sentiments  that  craved 
expression  in  poetic  works. 

Epic  had  almost  disappeared  when  dramatic  poetry  arose ;  it  no 
longer  satisfied  the  general  needs.  Yet  it  had  not  ceased  to  be  read 
and  to  interest  the  educated.  It  was  natural  that,  in  a  time  when 
literary  art  was  more  cultivated  than  ever,  a  few  men  of  poetic 
culture  should  wish  to  restore  it  to  favor.  Thus  can  be  explained 
the  renewal  of  this  extinct  type  and  the  degree  of  success  it  attained 
in  tlie  fifth  and  fourth  centuries. 

To  be  sure,  we  can  devote  but  little  space  to  all  this  secondary 
poetry,  as,  in  any  case,  it  is  represented  only  by  fragments.     We 

404 


Poetry  other  than  Drama  405 

shall  not  attempt  much  more  than  to  give  its  general  characteristics, 
and  shall  pass  afterward  to  a  rapid  enumeration  of  the  poets  and 
their  works. 

2.  Transformation  of  Lyric  Poetry  in  the  Fifth  Century.  The 
Dithyramb  and  the  Nome.  Lyric  Representations.  —  The  two  most 
important  things  in  the  history  of  poetry  in  the  fifth  century  are : 
the  influence  of  drama  on  the  other  types ;  and  the  more  and  more 
marked  predominance  of  music  over  poetry. 

Music  in  Greece  up  to  the  fifth  century  was  in  a  very  primitive 
condition,  but  it  then  made  rapid  progress,  especially  in  the  latter 
part  of  the  century.  The  ancient  instruments,  the  flute  and  the 
cithara,  were  then  perfected.  These  instruments  made  possible  a 
variety  of  effects  till  then  unknown.  Music  was  no  longer  to  be 
subordinate  to  poetry,  as  it  had  been  before.  It  was  too  rich  in 
resources  to  be  used  merely  in  bringing  out  the  beauties  of  another 
art.  So,  instead  of  serving  poetry,  poetry  now  began  to  serve  music. 
The  inversion  of  roles  was  manifest  in  several  ways.  First,  among 
the  ancient  lyric  forms,  those  were  selected  that,  by  nature,  were 
best  suited  to  show  the  new  capabilities  of  music ;  and  these  particu- 
lar ones  were  cultivated  as  much  as  possible.  Thus  is  explained  the 
favor  shown  the  dithyramb  and  the  nome.  By  their  length  and  the 
variety  of  their  structure,  these  two  types  showed  themselves  spe- 
cially well  adapted  to  display  the  talent  of  composers.  But  though 
music  thus  favored  them,  it  took  away  a  great  part  of  their  literary 
importance.  Poetic  beauty  is  not  only  useless,  but  even  undesirable, 
when  music  is  the  principal  effect  desired.  A  text  too  full  of  thought, 
written  in  a  vigorous,  terse  style,  allows  of  only  an  elementary  and 
designedly  weak  musical  accompaniment.  These  virtuosos  needed  a 
poetry  richer  in  words  than  in  ideas,  lavish  of  pretty  tones  and 
images,  and  able  to  excite  as  many  emotions  and  sensations  as  possi- 
ble without  calling  attention  to  its  own  importance. 

To  the  influence  of  music  was  added  that  of  drama.  "When  the 
great  works  of  ^schylus  had  appeared,  they  roused  a  sort  of  rivalry 
in  the  lyric  poets ;  the  public,  charmed  and  delighted  with  drama, 
disdained  lyric  poetry  altogether.  It  was  inevitable  that  the  dithy- 
ramb and  the  nome  should  become  more  and  more  dramatic. 

Already  the  dithyramb  of  Bacchylides  was  taking  on  the  form 
of  a  dialogue  sung  to  the  accompaniment  of  the  flute.  That  form 
became  predominant  in  the  course  of  the  fifth  century.  In  reality, 
the  dithyramb  of  the  time  must  be  conceived  as  a  species  of  short 
tragedy,  in  which  recitation  is  displaced  by  song.  It  must  have 
resembled  closely  our  opera,  though  not  having  the  same  extent  of 
action,  nor  the  same   variety  of   instriuuentation.      There  was  in 


J, 


406  Greek  Literature 

dithyramb,  as  in  tragedy,  a  chorus  and  actors.  The  actors  had  the 
leading  parts,  which  consisted  of  passionate  melodies ;  the  brilliant 
vivacity  of  their  movements  and  the  expressive  flexibility  of  their 
voices  were  displayed  in  rhythms  divested  of  the  structure  of  anti- 
strophe.  "The  dithyrambs,"  says  Aristotle  (Problems,  XIX,  15), 
"  once  devoted  to  dramatic  imitation  (crrtiS^  fxifxrjTLKol  iyivovro),  no 
longer  include  antistrophes,  as  they  did  before."  Under  such  condi- 
tions, the  play  proper  was  scarcely  different  from  a  theme,  destined 
to  suggest  melodies  to  the  composer. 

I  The  nome  must  have  been  more  conservative.  It  was  tradition- 
ally a  solo,  grave,  religious,  and  narrative,  accompanied  by  the 
cithara  instead  of  the  flute.  Gradually,  however,  under  the  influ- 
ence of  the  same  causes,  its  character  was  profoundly  altered. 
Besides  the  soloist  of  the  early  nome  there  was  a  chorus ;  then  the 
flute  added  its  notes  to  those  of  the  cithara,  or  replaced  it ;  and  the 
simplicity  of  the  old  melodies  gave  way  to  the  brilliant  variety  of 
the  later  art.  Thus  transformed,  the  nome  also  became  more  like 
drama;  and  apparently  it  was  little  different,  in  the  end,  from  the 
dithyramb.  Yet  we  lack  the  information  necessary  for  following 
with  precision  the  development  of  these  types. 

The  transformed  lyric  poetry  was  popular  in  character,  affecting 
and  sonorous,  yet  meagre  in  ideas.  It  was  said  proverbially  at 
Athens  that  a  man  of  little  wit  was  "  more  of  a  beast  than  the  dithy- 
ramb." The  poets  knew  this  in  composing  their  dithyrambs,  yet  were 
not  dissatisfied.  They  cared  little  if  their  poems  were  empty,  their 
sentences,  obscure  and  tortuous.  They  wanted  chiefly  dazzling  com- 
binations of  words,  sonorous  syllables,  sprightly,  light,  winged  sen- 
tences, such  as  would  seem  to  fly  and  whirl,  though  it  were  in  the 
clouds;  or  magnificent  and  ample,  such  as  would  give  the  melody 
occasion  to  display  itself.  Being  composers  as  well  as  poets,  they 
created  music  even  while  they  seemed  to  be  creating  poetry. 

Ancient  documents  show  that  lyric  representations  took  place  in 
Athens  at  the  principal  festivals,  seven  or  eight  times  yearly.  The 
importance  of  the  representations  induced  Pericles  to  construct  a 
building  appropriate  to  all  of  them  that  were  not  assigned  by  reli- 
gious tradition  to  a  definite  place.  This  was  the  Odeon.  Lyric 
poetry  tlien  had  its  theatre,  like  drama.  It  was  smaller  and  roofed 
over,  hence  more  suitable  for  carrying  the  sound  of  voices  and 
instruments. 

From  508,  probably,  the  solemn  rendering  of  great  lyric  works  at 
the  city  festivals  had  taken  on  at  Atliens  the  form  of  competitions, 
that  continued  for  centuries.  At  certain  festivals  all  the  denies,  or 
more  generally  certain  ones  whose  turn  had  come,  were  represented 


Poetry  other  than  Drama  407 

by  choruses,  which  the  choregus  chosen  by  them  was  expected  to 
maintain  and  have  instructed.  Prizes  were  awarded  to  the  victors  in 
the  name  of  the  state. 

3.  The  Chief  Dith3rrambic  and  Nomic  Poets  of  the  Fifth  and  Fourth 
Centuries.'  —  The  transformation  of  lyric  poetry  already  described  was 
the  work  of  a  succession  of  poets.  It  is  impossible  to  determine  the 
part  of  each  one  with  precision. 

Contemporaries  attributed  the  initiative  in  the  movement  to 
Melanippides  the  Younger.  All  we  can  say  is  that,  after  an  elabo- 
ration of  greater  or  less  length,  the  new  art  was  cultivated  by  him 
about  450.  His  leading  productions,  now  wholly  lost,  seem  to  belong 
to  a  period  extending  from  about  450  to  430.  Cinesias  of  Athens, 
though  somewhat  younger  than  Melanippides,  was  particularly 
decried  by  the  comic  poets,  in  the  name  of  the  old  traditions.  It  is 
evident  from  their  malicious  criticisms  that,  at  the  time  of  the  Pelo- 
ponnesian  War,  he  reproduced  ^  series  of  dithyrambs  in  which  all 
the  fashionable  innovations  were  given  free  play.  But  the  precise 
nature  of  the  innovations  is  unknown,  although  his  talent  seems  to 
have  been  exercised  chiefly  on  the  dances  and  evolutions  of  the 
chorus.  What  Melanippides  and  Cinesias  did  for  the  dithyramb, 
Phrynis  attempted,  at  the  same  time,  to  do  for  the  nome.  He  seems 
to  have  been  at  the  height  of  his  success  about  412.  According  to 
accounts,  he  was  the  first  to  substitute  for  the  somewhat  monotonous 
calm  of  the  ancient  citharedic  chants  a  passionate  movement.  Ac- 
cording to  Plutarch  (Agis,  c.  10),  he  used  a  cithara  with  nine  strings. 
Aristophanes  {Clouds,  v.  971)  reproaches  him  with  having  invented 
soft  and  eifeminate  inflections  of  the  voice. 

But  tlie  great  masters  of  the  transformed  art,  after  the  period  of 
the  innovators  was  past,  were  Timotheus  of  Miletus  and  Philoxenus 
of  Cythera. 

Timotheus  lived  from  447  to  357.  His  long  life  of  ninety  years 
was  singularly  honored.  From  the  beginning  of  his  public  career, 
about  420,  he  went  from  one  place  of  contest  to  another,  rendering 
his  musical  compositions  at  Athens,  at  Sparta,  in  Macedon,  and 
probably  in  almost  all  the  great  cities  of  Greece  and  Asia  Minor., 
He  appears  to  have  succeeded  almost  equally  with  the  nome  and  the 
dithyramb ;  yet  his  nomes  were  more  celebrated.  The  characteristic 
feature  of  his  art  was  a  strong  fondness  for  dramatic  imitation.  He 
loved  to  show  the  resources  of  his  musical  composition  by  trying  to 
express  what  seemed  not  to  lend  itself  well  to  musical  expression. 
For  instance,  in  a  passage  of  uncertain  title  he  imitated  a  thunder- 
storm. His  Artemis,  which  he  himself  sang  in  the  theatre  at  Athens, 
^  Fragments  in  Bergk,  Poetce  Lyrici  (xneci,  III,  Leipsic,  1882. 


408  Greek  Literature 

began  with  a  curious  assemblage  of  rare  epithets,  designed  to  capti- 
vate both  the  mind  and  the  ear.  These  excesses  were  atoned  for, 
however,  by  excellent  merits  :  movement,  passion,  and  enthusiasm 
associated  at  times  with  grandeur.  His  patriotic  nome  entitled  the 
Persians,  which  seems  to  have  been  written  about  the  time  when 
Agesilaus  was  fighting  in  Asia  (395-394),  was  regarded  in  Greece  as 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  lyric  poems.  It  is  evident  that  history 
was  mingled  with  mythology  in  his  compositions,  yet  scarcely  doubt- 
ful that  mythology  predominated. 

His  most  illustrious  rival  was  Philoxenus  of  Cythera,  who  lived 
from  435  to  380.  His  life,  though  somewhat  romantic  and  adven- 
turous, scarcely  interests  the  historian  of  literature.  He  is  found 
successively  at  Sparta,  Syracuse,  Tarentum,  Athens,  etc.,  now  well 
received  by  Dionysius  the  Elder,  now  disgraced  by  him  and  thrown 
into  prison.  Like  Timotheus  and  all  the  great  literary  men  of  the 
time,  he  went  in  quest  of  success  from  city  to  city.  His  great  repu- 
tation was  won  by  his  dithyrambs.  One  of  the  most  celebrated  was 
the  Cyclops,  of  which  Aristophanes  has  parodied  a  passage  in  the 
Plutus.  It  was  a  real  drama.  The  poet  took  for  his  subject  the 
love  of  the  Cyclops  Polyphemus  for  the  nymph  Galatea,  and  wove 
in  the  adventure  of  Odysseus  and  his  companions  from  the  ninth 
book  of  the  Odyssey,  which  had  already  been  represented  by  Eurii> 
ides.  The  dithyramb,  thus  treated,  closely  resembles  both  tragedy 
and  satyr-drama. 

After  Timotheus  and  Philoxenus,  we  no  longer  meet  in  the  history 
of  the  dithyramb  any  really  great  names.  Lyric  poetry,  subordi- 
nated to  a  complex  music,  more  and  more  lost  the  element  that  had 
given  it  its  value.  Men  of  original  talent  no  longer  cared  to  culti- 
vate it. 

4.  Other  Lyric  Types.  The  Elegy  and  the  Iamb.' — The  dithy- 
ramb and  the  nome,  in  their  period  of  success,  had  been  strong  rivals 
of  tragedy ;  they  were,  like  tragedy,  public  exercises  in  a  way,  be- 
cause they  were  associated  with  the  city  festivals.  Besides  the  great 
forms  of  lyric  poetry,  there  were  others  more  humble,  which  scarcely 
departed  from  the  circles  of  private  life. 

The  scolion,  the  table  song  already  described,  which  had  appeared 
as  early  as  the  sixth  century,  was  continued  iu  the  fifth  and  fourth 
centuries  in  a  multitude  of  pleasing,  ingenious  works,  sometimes 
emotional,  but,  on  the  whole,  quite  secondary.  They  have,  more- 
over, almost  wholly  disappeared.  The  only  specimen  that  we  need 
to  mention  here  is  Aristotle's  Hymn  to  Virtue.  Composed  about 
345,  soon  after  the  death  of  Herraias  of  Atarneus,  who  had  been 
I  Fragments  in  Bergk,  sup.  cit.,  vol.  II,  p.  360. 


Poetry  other  than  Drama  409 

one  of  the  philosopher's  best  friends,  it  was  based  upon  a  touching 
sentiment  and  a  lofty  idea.   We  may  quote  at  least  the  beginning :  — 

"  Virtue,  object  of  the  efforts  of  the  human  race,  glorious  goal  to 
which  life  tends,  it  is  for  thy  beauty,  noble  maiden,  that  even  death 
is  sought  in  Hellas,  and  that  men  bear  the  fatigues  of  illimitable 
toil.  Thy  charms  create  in  their  souls  an  undying  love;  more 
powerful  are  they  than  gold  or  pleasures,  more  sweet  and  pleasing 
than  sleep,"  etc.  * 

But  the  chief  form  of  familiar  poetry,  then  as  well  as  in  the 
preceding  period,  was  the  elegy.  As  in  the  preceding  centuries,  it 
continued  to  be  the  almost  indispensable  accompaniment  at  reunions 
of  friends  and  at  banquets.  Almost  all  the  celebrated  men  of  the 
fifth  and  fourth  centuries  composed  elegy.  It  was  particularly  the 
poetry  of  circumstance,  adapted  to  express  every  sentiment  or 
caprice,  now  narrative,  now  philosophical,  passing  from  eulogy  to 
warning,  or  even  to  censure,  as  an  agreeable  dissertation  on  politics, 
morals,  or  even  topics  of  the  day.  It  was  a  form  of  composition 
presenting  few  difficulties,  and  often  becoming  insipid ;  and  it  could 
produce  but  few  remarkable  works. 

In  the  fifth  century  its  best-known  representative  was  Evenus  of 
Paros.  He  was  born  about  460,  was  both  a  poet  and  a  sophist,  and 
was  in  the  height  of  his  reputation  from  430  to  about  400.  From 
the  accounts  and  the  few  extant  fragments  we  have,  Evenus  seems 
to  have  been  a  man  of  the  better  class,  whose  poetry  had  more  grace 
and  ingenuity  than  force  or  vigor.  He  loved  to  moralize,  with  a 
chaste  elegance  that  is  truly  Attic,  though  he  was  a  countryman  of 
Archilochus.  If  the  collection  of  his  elegies  were  in  existence,  it 
would  be  interesting  to  compare  it  with  Xenophon's  Syynposium,  as 
each  work  represented  equally  well  contemporary  good  society  at 
Athens. 

The  tyrant  C'ritias,  a  wit  who  had  composed  tragedies  of  some 
merit,  was  also  an  elegiac  poet.  Of  his  elegies,  however,  we  have 
only  a  few  fragments,  the  most  interesting  of  which  belonged  to  a 
collection  entitled  the  RepnhUcn  or  the  Constitutions  (noA-ireuxi). 
The  author's  spirit  of  opposition  to  democracy  is  certainly  mani- 
fest ;  they  were  aristocratic  poems  written  to  suit  the  taste  of  the 
oligarchical  fraternities. 

Very  different  is  the  elegy  of  Antimachus  of  Colophon.  We 
shall  speak  of  him  a  little  later,  because  he  was  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  epic  poets  of  the  fifth  century.  The  elegy  as  he  con- 
ceived it  was  too  nauch  like  his  epic  in  spirit  and  subject-matter  to 

1  Text  ill  Bergk,  vol.  II,  p.  3(30. 


410  Greek  Literature 

be  separated  from  it.  We  shall  merely  mention  it  without  insisting  on 
the  distinction. 

The  poetry  of  derision,  under  the  various  forms  of  parody  or 
satire,  must  have  a  place  in  this  review  beside  the  elegy,  which  it 
resembles  in  certain  ways.  But  it  is  not  represented  either  in  the 
fifth  century  or  in  the  fourth  by  any  work  of  great  merit. 

Parody  as  a  type  went  back  at  least  as  far  as,  if  not  farther  than, 
the  Batrachomyomachia.  We  have  seen  that  it  constituted  a  rather 
important  element  of  the  Old  Comedy.  We  see  it  developing 
remarkably  at  this  time  outside  of  the  theatre,  and  used  in  the 
service  of  moral  satire. 

A  poet  of  the  fifth  century  named  Hermippus,  in  iambic  poems 
entitled  Trimeters  and  Tetrameters,  parodied  the  legend  of  Odysseus 
in  the  Odyssey,  not  in  mockery,  but  as  a  setting  upon  which  he  could 
weave  jestingly  his  criticism  of  contemporaries.  Hegemon  of  Thasos, 
at  the  same  time,  probably  had  an  analogous  purpose  in  composing 
his  Gigantomachia,  which  was,  in  fact,  only  a  satiric  autobiography. 
On  the  contrary,  in  the  hands  of  Euboeus  of  Parium  parody  seems 
to  have  aimed  only  at  pleasing  effects.  He  assumed  the  tone  of  epic 
to  relate  the  quarrels  of  street-porters. 

In  the  second  half  of  the  fourth  century,  the  period  of  Menander, 
this  spurious  type  was  cultivated  with  some  success  by  the  celebrated 
Cynic  philosopher,  Crates  of  Thebes,  a  disciple  of  Diogenes.  He 
composed  Iambs,  Elegies,  and  Hexameters.  Whatever  the  variety 
of  the  rhythm,  the  spirit  inspiring  it  was  always  the  same,  and  so 
was  the  literary  process.  He  imitated,  not  without  grace,  the  old 
poets  Homer  and  Solon,  turning  their  verses  from  the  primitive 
sense  to  satire.  It  was  still  parody,  though  inspired  by  a  doctrinal 
asceticism,  which  mocked  at  men's  being  mastered  by  their  desires. 
Let  us  cite,  by  way  of  example,  the  best  of  his  fragments,  in  which, 
closely  following  the  description  of  Crete  in  the  Odyssey  (XIX,  172), 
he  describes  the  ideal  city  of  Cynicism,  which  he  calls  Money-Pouch 

Wpv)-— 

"  It  is  a  country  called  Money-Pouch,  in  the  midst  of  waves  dark 
with  pride,  a  beautiful  and  fertile  land,  surrounded  with  water,  and 
possessing  nothing.  Thither  shall  come  neither  the  vain  parasite, 
nor  the  shameless  debauchee.  The  island  produces  thyme,  garlic, 
figs,  and  wheat  bread.  Hence  there  is  no  strife  among  the  inhabit- 
ants on  account  of  its  fruits ;  they  carry  no  arms  to  win  money  or 
glory." ^ 

This  poetry  originated  in  a  sincere  and  honorable  sentiment ;  but 

it  had  the  misfortune,  like  all  parody,  of  being  satisfied  with  a  very 

artificial  form. 

1  Diogenes  Laertius,  VI,  85  ;  fr.  7,  Bergk. 


Poetry  other  than  Drama  411 

5.  Epic  in  the  Fifth  and  Fourth  Centuries.  Panyasis ;  Antimachus ; 
Choerilus.^  —  Whereas  the  forms  of  composition  we  have  just  dis- 
cussed were  kept  alive  because  they  answered  to  certain  permanent 
needs,  the  heroic  epic,  after  having  suffered  eclipse  in  the  sixth 
century,  reappeared  in  the  fifth  without  being  in  any  way  called  for 
by  public  opinion.  This  wholly  artificial  restoration  was  the  work 
of  a  few  poetic  scholars  —  rather  scholarly  than  poetic  —  to  whom 
all  the  ancient  lays  seemed  sacred,  and  who  thought  to  atone  by 
artifice  for  a  heroic  inspiration  that  was  extinct. 

The  first  in  time  was  an  Asiatic  Greek,  Panyasis  of  Halicarnassus, 
an  uncle  or  cousin  of  Herodotus.  The  little  we  know  of  him  is  this : 
Embroiled  in  the  political  troubles  of  his  country,  an  adversary  of 
the  tyrant  Lygdamis,  he  was  put  to  death  by  him,  probably  in  457. 
The  publication  of  his  epic  seems  to  have  been  about  ten  years  before 
his  death.  A  man  fond  of  the  old  legends  and  of  long  mythological 
narrations,  which  had  not  ceased  to  be  in  honor  in  his  city,  he  under- 
took to  recount  in  verse  the  whole  cycle  of  the  labors  of  Heracles, 
already  celebrated,  two  hundred  years  before,  by  the  Rhodian  Pisan- 
der.  How  he  proposed  to  renew  the  subject  we  cannot  say.  His 
poem  is  lost  with  the  exception  of  some  forty  verses;  and  these 
teach  us  nothing  of  its  structure.  We  know  only  that  he  related  all 
the  adventures  of  the  hero  in  fourteen  books,  which  formed  a  total 
of  nine  thousand  verses.  Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus  and  Quintilian 
praise  the  beauty  of  the  subject  and  the  skill  of  the  composition.  It 
does  not  appear,  however,  that  the  poet  gave  proof  of  great  original- 
ity. Easy  elegance  might  render  agreeable  to  a  certain  number  of 
readers  the  imitation  of  epic  language  and  of  old  heroic  customs ; 
but  the  really  original  qualities  which  secure  immortality  for  a 
literary  masterpiece  were  wanting. 

About  fifty  years  later  in  birth,  the  Ionian  Antimachus  of  Colo- 
phon tried  a  similar  enterprise,  and  seems  to  have  been  much  superior 
to  his  predecessor.  He  was  in  possession  of  his  maturest  powers  and 
talents  at  the  close  of  the  Peloponnesian  War.  We  know  almost 
nothing  of  his  life  or  personality ;  but  his  works  had  a  fame  that 
makes  them  still  interesting,  though  lost. 

His  name  is  connected  chiefly  with  a  Thehaid,  an  immense  epic, 
in  which  both  his  merits  and  defects  are  manifest.  An  aristocratic 
scholar,  fond  of  obscure  details,  he  must  have  prepared  with  infinite 
research  to  write  his  poem.  Once  master  of  this  treasure  of  antiq- 
uities, he  had  not  the  resolution  needful  for  sacrificing  any  part  of 
it.     Those  who  appreciated,  above  all,  elegance  and  simplicity  of 

1  'Fragments  in  the  Didot  Ileaiod,  and  in  Kinkel,  Poetarum  Epicorum  Frag- 
menta,  vol.  I,  in  the  Teubner  Collection. 


412  Greek  Literature 

diction  preferred  Panyasis  to  him.  His  narratives  were  connected 
together,  and  seemed  to  multiply  as  he  advanced.  He  it  is  at  whom 
Horace  mocks,  when,  without  naming  him,  he  speaks  of  the  poet 
who  goes  back  to  the  death  of  Meleager  to  tell  of  the  return  of 
Diomed  {A.P.  136).  At  the  end  of  his  twenty-third  book,  the  Argive 
chiefs  had  not  yet  arrived  in  front  of  Thebes.  This  was  the  great 
defect  of  the  work.  No  more  is  needed  to  justify  the  shai'p  criticism 
to  which  it  was  subjected  in  antiquity.  But,  though  he  did  not 
know  the  art  of  composition,  at  least  he  was  a  poet.  He  had  fire, 
vigor,  movement,  and  all  that  constitutes  life.  He  was  reproached, 
it  is  true,  with  sometimes  having  a  wordy  and  obscure  style.  All  in 
all,  however,  this  is  better  than  platitude  and  insignificance.  He 
was  opposed  chiefly  by  dainty,  fastidious  artists ;  but  he  pleased  a 
few  great  minds,  such  as  Plato,  who  probably  had  regard  rather  for 
the  substance  of  poetry.  His  Tliehaid  was  much  read  for  several 
centuries ;  and  though  it  finally  collapsed  under  its  own  weight,  it 
left  behind  it  the  fame  of  having  evinced  much  genius. 

As  has  just  been  said,  Antimachus  composed  some  elegies,  as 
well  as  his  epic.  He  formed  a  collection  entitled  Lyde,  from  the 
name  of  a  woman  celebrated  in  them.  These  have  the  same  merits 
and  defects  as  the  Tliebaid.  Though  making  a  pretence  of  passion, 
they  overflow  with  scholarship.  About  his  own  real  or  imaginary 
sentiment,  he  grouped  the  legends  of  a  multitude  of  famous  amours. 
But  if  he  misused  his  knowledge,  he  lent  it  warmth  b)'^  his  merit  as 
a  writer.  The  Lyde  can  be  considered  as  the  first  example  of  a  new 
type.  It  inaugurated  the  Alexandrian  elegy,  which  is  rather  narra- 
tive than  lyric. 

Panyasis  and  Antimachus  restored  the  heroic,  mythological  epic. 
Probably  they  had  imitators  and  rivals  in  the  period  we  are  study- 
ing, but  none  that  became  distinguished.  The  men  who  continued 
the  type  belonged  to  the  Alexandrian  period,  the  most  illustrious 
being  Apollonius  of  Rhodes,  the  author  of  the  Ar(jonautica.  But 
by  the  side  of  the  mythological  epic,  another  form  appeared  in  the 
fifth  century  —  the  epic  of  historical  and  contemporary  events. 

Its  principal  representative  was  Chcerilus.  He  was  a  Samian. 
Although  the  notices  concerning  the  chronology  of  his  life  are  diver- 
gent, it  ajipears  certain  that  he  was  in  mature  age  about  420.  His 
period  of  greatest  activity  extends  roughly  from  420  to  400.  He  died 
not  far  from  400,  at  the  court  of  Arclielaus  of  Macedon.  His  work  was 
called  the  Perseid  (ITepcrT/is  or  TTtpo-iKa ),  a  tale  of  the  Persian  Wars.  An 
exjjression  of  Suidas,  who  calls  tlie  poem  the  "  Victory  of  the  Athe- 
nians over  Xerxes,"  warrants  us  in  thinking  that  the  battle  of  Salamis 
was  the  centre  of  the  composition,  and  that  the  role  of  Athens  was 


Poetry  other  than  Drama  413 

made  prominent.  But  this  is  all  we  know.  It  cannot  be  doubted, 
inasmuch  as  the  notices  of  antiquity  lead  to  the  belief,  that  Chcerilus 
drew  from  Herodotus  much  of  the  matter  of  his  history.  But  we 
cannot  say  to  what  extent  fiction  and  the  marvellous  had  part  in  this 
historical  epic,  and  so  cannot  appreciate  the  poet's  effort  properly. 
According  to  Aristotle,  his  work  abounded  in  strained  and  obscure 
comparisons ;  the  few  fragments  extant  do  not  tend  to  weaken  this 
somewhat  unfavorable  judgment.  Yet  Choerilus  seems  to  have 
obtained  some  success  in  his  lifetime,  possibly  because  he  flattered 
the  national  vanity.  After  his  death,  he  lost  favor  more  and  more. 
The  degree  of  success  this  poet  attained,  did,  however,  secure 
him  imitators.  The  historical  epic  did  not  at  once  disappear.  In 
the  next  century,  another  Choerilus  seems  to  have  celebrated  in  epic 
verse  the  exploits  of  Alexander,  and  afterward,  in  a  second  histori- 
cal epic,  the  Lamian  War.  These  tame  compositions  scarcely  merit 
a  place  in  literary  history,  especially  as  they  are  all  lost ;  but  they 
attest  the  continuance  of  a  type  which,  in  the  Alexandrian  period, 
was  to  be  represented,  not  discreditably,  by  the  Messenian  Women 
of  Rhianus. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

PHILOSOPHY  IN  THE  FOURTH  AND  THIRD  CENTURIES 

1.  Athens  and  Philosophy.  2.  Schools  of  the  Second  Order.  3.  Stoicism  : 
Zeno  ;  Cleanthes  ;  Chr5'sippus.  4.  Epicurus  and  Epicureanism.  5.  Pyrrho 
and  Scepticism ;  Timon  the  Sinograph.  6.  Middle  and  New  Academies : 
Arcesilaus  and  Carneades. 

1.  Athens  and  Philosophy.  —  Like  comedy,  philosophy  also  con- 
tinued to  be  largely  Athenian  in  the  period  after  the  death  of  Alex- 
ander. The  amount  of  philosophic  thinking  done  was  considerable ; 
for  it  was  then  that  the  most  potent  moral  doctrines  of  antiquity, 
those  which  have  exercised  the  strongest  influence  over  the  life  of 
men,  were  founded  and  organized.  The  philosophers  of  this  period 
were  not,  in  general,  Athenians  by  birth ;  most  of  them,  indeed,  were 
foreigners.  But  Athens,  owing  to  the  splendor  of  the  still  existing 
schools  of  Plato  and  Aristotle,  continued  to  be  the  centre  of  philos- 
ophy. Men  came  to  Athens  to  listen  to  the  most  celebrated^pKi- 
losophers,  and  to  philosophize  for  themselves.  The  life  and  air  of 
Athens  was  favorable  to  dialectical  discussions.  In  the  sluggishness 
of  politics,  in  the  soft  quietude  of  the  decadence,  the  activity  of  the 
Attic  mind  had  need  of  nourishment.  This  it  found  in  discussions 
which  suited  its  acumen  and  which  gradually  replaced  all  other  forms 
of  political  and  oratorical  activity.  Besides,  life  at  Athens  was 
freer  than  elsewhere.  Kings  and  generals  were  not  so  near  at  hand ; 
men  preserved  an  independence  of  walk  and  thought  favorable 
to  philosophical  and  moral  speculation.  Besides  the  Academy  and 
the  Lyceum,  other  schools  were  founded.  Soon  the  city  was  swarm- 
ing with  rival  sects,  which  by  spoken  or  written  language  contended 
with  each  other  in  the  struggle  for  influence  and  success.  Between 
Stoics  and  Epicureans,  Academicians  and  Cynics,  quarrels  arose 
much  like  those  of  the  Franciscans  and  Dominicans  in  the  Middle 
Ages.  Athens  was  a  great  university  city,  full  of  students  of  every 
age  and  country,  and  abounding  in  subtle  words  and  interminable 
discussions.  The  schools  of  Megara  and  Cyrene,  outside  of  Athens, 
maintained  a  modest  provincial  existence.  Cynicism  was,  however, 
rather  nomadic.  Such  exceptions  are  not,  on  the  whole,  numerous ; 
and  one  may  say  that  the  philosophy  of  the  period  is  principally 

414 


Philosophy  in  the  Fourth  and  Third  Centuries     415 

Athenian.  Literature,  moreover,  is  indebted  to  it  for  very  little. 
This  is  not  due  merely  to  the  fact  that  most  of  the  philosophic  writ- 
ings of  the  period  have  perished ;  for  we  know  from  the  testimony 
of  ancient  writers  that  these  authors  either  did  not  wish  to  produce 
works  of  art,  or  failed  to  do  so.  We  need  not,  therefore,  study 
minutely  the  remains  of  their  works.  It  will  be  sufficient  to  give  a 
rapid  sketch  of  the  movement  of  thought,  indicating,  as  we  proceed, 
the  principal  literary  works  connected  with  it.^ 

2.  Schools  of  the  Second  Order.  —  Of  the  schools  of  Megara  and 
Cyrene,  scarcely  more  than  two  names  deserve  mention :  that  of  the 
Cyrenean  Theodorus,  who  continued,  after  Aristippus  and  before 
Epicurus,  to  advocate  the  moral  creed  of  pleasure ;  and  that  of 
the  Megarian  Stilpo,  who  was  faithful  to  the  subtle  dialectic  of 
his  masters. 

The  Cynic  school  has  greater  importance,  even  in  literature. 
Diogenes  of  Sinope,^  who  slept  in  a  wine-jar,  and  who  asked  Alex- 
ander to  step  aside  and  let  him  enjoy  the  full  light  of  the  sun,  wrote 
a  few  works  which  won  some  reputation,  though  we  no  longer  know 
them.  Crates  of  Thebes,  another  Cynic  of  this  period,  was  one  of  the 
masters  of  Zeno.^  Bion  the  Borysthenite  wrote  various  works  in 
prose  and  verse,  notably  Dissertations,  which  had  the  honor,  on  ac- 
count of  their  biting  wit,  to  win  the  attention  of  Horace  and  serve  as 
models  for  his  Satires.*  Finally,  Menippus  of  Gadara  in  Coele-Syria 
was  also  an  original  writer  and  an  innovator.  He  wrote  various  works 
of  parody  or  droll  mockery  against  Homer,  the  philosophers,  and  the 
scholars,  particularly  Epicurus.  His  NcKuta  was  a  parody  of  that  of 
Homer ;  his  Letters  dealt  with  the  divinities  of  the  popular  religion. 
His  incisive,  good-natured  sarcasm  was  expressed  in  prose  and  verse 
in  turn,  both  being  used  in  the  same  work.  This  type  of  composi- 
tion had  so  much  success  that  it  survived  its  inventor  :  the  Menippeaii 
Satires  of  Varro  were  an  imitation  of  the  writings  of  Menippus. 
They  are  lost  to-day,  like  the  original ;  but  Luciau  also  imitated  Me- 
nippus, and  he  is  better  known.  We  know  the  importance  he  gave  to 
the  personage  of  Menippus  in  a  number  of  his  dialogues ;  there  is  no 
doubt  that  his  clever  mockery  owes  much  to  that  of  the  philosopher 
of  Gadara.  The  life  of  Menippus  belongs  to  the  end  of  the  fourth 
century  and  the  beginning  of  the  third. 

1  III  chapter  XIX  we  considered  the  successors  of  Plato  in  the  Academy 
and  of  Aristotle  in  the  Lyceum.  On  the  philosophers  whom  we  are  to  discuss, 
see  the  Lives  by  Diogenes  Laertius. 

-  [For  Diogenes,  see  Origen,  Against  Celsus,  II  ;  Plutarch,  Alexander,  14; 
Diogenes  Laertius,  II,  47.  —  Tr.] 

2  On  his  poems,  see  above,  p.  410. 

*  •'  Bion;ois  sermonibus  et  sale  nigro  "  (Ilor.,  Ep.  II,  2,  60). 


416  Greek  Literature 

\  3.  Stoicism :  Zeno ;  Cleanthes ;  Chrysippus.  —  Zeno,  the  founder  of 
Stoicism,  wasTIie  pupil,  It  is  said,  of  the  Cynic  Crates ;  and  it  is  cer- 
tain that  the  Stoic,  by  his  scorn  for  weakness,  his  somewhat  rude  in- 
dependence, and  his  haughty  language,  has  some  traits  of  Cynicism, 
for  which,  in  general,  he  shows  sympathy.  But  the  Cynic  is  gen- 
erally an  ignorant  man,  who  cares  little  for  practical  life ;  the  Stoic, 
on  the  contrary,  is  a  cultivated,  subtle  reasoner,  who  founds  his  mor- 
als upon  a  whole  metaphysical  system.  Stoicism,  like  Platonism  or 
Aristotelianism,  is  a  complete  doctrine.  Notwithstanding  its  parar 
doxes  and  whims,  it  is  one  of  the  profoundest  in  certain  ways  —  or 
at  any  rate  one  of  the  most  highly  moral  —  to  be  met  with  in  the 
history  of  human  thinking.^ 

The  founders  of  Stoicism  are  Zeno  of  Citium  (a  Phoenician  colony 
in  Cyprus),  Cleanthes  of  Assos  in  Mysia,  and  Chrysippus  of  Soli  in 
Cilicia.  Zeno  and  Cleanthes  were  contemporary ;  the  former  was 
born  about  336,  the  latter  about  331.  Chrysippus,  a  pupil  of  Cle- 
anthes, belongs  to  another  generation ;  he  was  born  about  280,  and 
lived  till  the  closing  years  of  the  third  century.  It  will  be  noticed 
that  none  of  them  are  Athenians  by  birth ;  Zeno  and  Cleanthes  are 
provincials,  almost  non-Hellenic,  and  of  modest  origins.  Zeno  came 
to  Athens  to  follow  his  profession ;  Cleanthes  began  as  an  athlete. 
They  were  strangers  to  Athenian  traditions,  to  the  fine  culture  of  a 
Plato.  They  were  serious,  ardent,  and  not  deeply  interested  in  art. 
The  part  of  each  in  the  organization  of  Stoicism  can  be  briefly  sum- 
marized :  Zeno  was  the  initiator ;  and  Cleanthes,  first  as  a  colleague 
and  then  as  a  successor,  finished  and  consolidated  the  work ;  but 
Chrysippus  was  the  "  doctor  imperturbable,"  the  resourceful  debater 
who  gave  the  system  its  breadth,  defended  it  against  attacks,  and 
fortified  it  for  all  time  with  an  exhaustless  store  of  arguments.  Zeno 
wrote  a  few  works,  though  not  many ;  he  aifected  scorn  of  rhetoric, 
and  aimed  only  at  brevity.  Cleanthes  was  a  more  fertile  writer.  Be- 
sides numerous  treatises  in  prose,  of  which  almost  nothing  remains, 
he  composed  some  poems.  His  Hymn  to  Zens,  which  we  may  still  read, 
is  an  interesting  composition.  Its  poetry  is  grave,  strictly  adhering 
to  the  orthodoxy  of  the  system,  on  the  whole  of  slight  literary  merit, 
yet  pretty  enough  for  the  religious  turn  of  the  thought.  This  is  curi- 
ously combined  with  a  semi-Stoic,  semi-Homeric  terminology.  Chry- 
sippus is  the  St.  Thomas  Aquinas  of  Stoici.sm.  His  seven  or  eight 
hundred  writings   were  a  real  summary  of  the  doctrine.     On  him 

'  Zeno  was  wont  to  gather  his  disciples  in  the  painted  porch,  Srod  woLKiXri ; 
hence  the  doctrine  was  called  "Stoic,"'  and  the  school,  "The  Porch.'"  'J'he 
fra^'ments  of  the  Stoics  are  found  principally  in  the  writings  which  Plutarch 
composed  to  refute  their  teaching.  On  Cleanthes.  see  Mullach,  Fragm.  Phil. 
Grace.  I,  151  ff.     See  Kavaisson,  Esgai  sur  h  stoicisme,  Paris,  185(5. 


Philosophy  in  the  Fourth  and  TJiird  Centuries     417 

was  composed  the  ironical  verse  :  "  No  Porch  without  Chrysippus. " 
We  have  numerous  fragments  of  his  works.  Apparently  they  were 
not  really  artistic;  they  were  filled,  with  numberless  citations  of  poets 
and  writers  of  every  sort,  and  bristled  with  dialectic. 

What  was,  then,  this  celebrated  doctrine,  which  attracted  so 
many  excellent  minds,  especially  in  the  Roman  period  ?  We  can- 
not give  an  exposition  of  all  its  phases,  even  summarily,  for  it  is  too 
complex.  It  includes  a  logic,  or  preliminary  science  of  the  condi- 
tions of  knowledge ;  a  physics,  or  science  of  existence ;  and  a  morals, 
or  science  of  morality.  The  system  owes  much  to  Heraclitus.  The 
general  idea  of  it  can  be  summarized  thus :  The  individual,  the  par- 
ticular, has  its  existence  only  in  and  through  the  whole,  which  is  the 
world ;  and  the  world  itself,  through  its  incessant  transformations, 
is  conducted  by  unchanging  laws  {fj  (.lixapfxivrj)  which  are  the  expres- 
sion of  divine  thought,  the  world-soul.  The  soul  of  man  is  a  portion 
of  the  divine  soul.  Reason  in  man  is  the  directing  element  (to 
riyc^jLoviKov),  alone  capable  of  grasping  the  laws  of  the  universe  of 
things,  and  bringing  individual  conduct  into  conformity  therewith. 
Happiness,  which  is  the  natural  end  of  the  individual's  action,  can 
be  realized  only  by  complete  submission  to  the  universal  laws  of  the 
world,  as  recognized  by  reason.  This  submission  constitutes  virtue. 
The  sage  considers  virtue  as  the  only  real  good.  All  the  rest,  health 
or  sickness,  riches  or  poverty,  is  indifferent  (dStae^o/aov).  Duty  (to 
KadrJKov)  is  the  source  of  perfect  happiness.  When  the  sage  is  perme- 
ated with  such  ideas,  he  attains  absolute  serenity  (drapa^ia),  the  neces- 
sary condition  of  happiness.  Apart  from  duty  and  wisdom,  there 
is  only  misery — a  profound  misery,  without  distinction  of  degrees; 
for  all  faults,  in  the  end,  are  equal,  inasmuch  as  they  all  equally 
lead  a  man  away  from  hap])iness. 

It  is  easy  to  rail  at  Stoicism  and  say,  for  example,  with  Cicero, 
that  tlie  Stoic  is  a  man  who  piits  in  the  same  rank  the  crime  of  kill- 
ing one's  father  and  that  of  killing  a  cock ; '  or  with  Horace :  — 

Ad  .snmmum,  .sapiens  uno  minor  est  Jove,  dives, 
Liber,  honoratus,  pulcher,  rex  denique  regum, 
Prsecipue  sanus,  nisi  cum  pituita  molesta  est.^ 

But  it  is  juster  and  more  interesting  to  recognize  what  humanity 
owes  to  these  bold  thinkers,  to  these  sublime,  though  rather  droll, 
dialecticians.  Always  thoroughly  Greek  in  the  intellectual  char- 
acter of  their  doctrine,  in  their  conception  of  the  part  of  reason  in 

1  Pro  Murena.  29. 

-  Epist.  I,  i,  106.     ['•  In  short,  the  Sage  is  inferior  to  only  Jove  ;  he  is  rich, 
free,  honored,  favored,  a  king  of  kings,  in  every  way  sensible  —  except,  per- 
haps, in  the  matter  of  his  phlegm."  — Tr.] 
2e 


418  Greek  Literature 

their  dialectic,  even  in  their  bold  use  of  paradox ;  yet  how  novel  they 
are  in  the  capital  affirmation  that  between  the  morally  good  and  all 
else  there  is  no  common  ground !  Moral  good  is  everything.  Neither 
Aristotle  nor  Plato  went  so  far.  It  is  the  idea  of  the  absolute,  —  a 
fact  we  must  not  fail  to  recognize,  —  entering,  with  all  its  grandeur 
and  all  its  dangers,  for  the  first  time  into  the  world. 

4.  Epicurus  and  Epicureanism.  —  Epicureanism  appeared  at  the 
same  time  as  Stoicism ;  and  in"  almost  every  sense  it  was  its  direct 
counterpart. 

Epicurus,  the  founder  of  the  school,  was  an  Athenian.^  He  was 
born  in  342.  At  first  he  was  a  schoolmaster  in  various  Greek  cities. 
The  Tlieogony  of  Hesiod  appeared  to  him  absurd ;  but  the  system  of 
Democritus  enchanted  him.  At  the  age  of  about  thirty  he  had 
formulated  his  doctrine,  and  came  to  Athens  to  teach  it  in  306.  He 
was  accustomed  to  assemble  a  few  friends  in  a  little  garden  that  he 
had  bought ;  and  the  "  Garden  "  of  Epicurus  became  the  rival  of  the 
Academy,  the  Porch,  and  the  Lyceum.  His  character,  though 
fiercely  attacked  by  his  enemies,  appears  to  have  been  altogether 
praiseworthy;  whatever  one  thinks  of  his  doctrine,  the  man  was 
excellent,  full  of  gentleness  and  amiability.  He  lived  in  close 
intimacy  with  his  friends,  particularly  Metrodorus,  who  so  nearly 
resembled  him  that  in  antiquity  it  was  not  unusual  to  reproduce 
their  likenesses  together  in  a  double  bust.  He  educated  his  slave, 
Mys,  in  philosophy,  and  treated  him  as  a  son.  His  testament  is  of 
great  nobility.  It  is  Epicurus  who  wrote :  "  A  deceased  friend  is 
still  a  pleasant  memory ;  "  and  "It  is  better  to  give  than  to  receive." 
He  did  not  sanction  community  of  goods  like  Pythagoras;  "True 
friends,"  he  said,  "  ought  to  be  so  sure  of  each  other  as  not  to  need 
to  be  common  proprietors  of  an  undivided  property."  He  died  in 
270,  leaving  a  considerable  quantity  of  writings,  and  a  flourishing 
school. 

Of  his  writings  there  remain,  besides  some  fragments,  two  long 
philosophic  letters  and  a  r6snm4,  of  tlie  principal  Epicurean  maxims 
(Kvptat  So^at)  made  by  himself  or  one  of  his  disciples.  These  writ- 
ings had  no  literary  pretensions ;  he  scorned  dialectic  and  was 
interested  only  in  the  practical  conduct  of  life.  In  a  style  brief, 
sententious,  filled  with  the  terms  of  the  schools,  he  was  occupied 
above  all  in  offering  his  disciples  a  catechism  which  they  might 
learn  by  heart  and  follow  literally.  He  had  no  taste  for  specula- 
tion; and  no  school  was  less  speculative  than  his,  or  less  intellectual. 
In  this  respect  he  broke  away  from  the  tendencies  of  Hellenism.    His 

'  Texts  in  Usener,  Epicurea,  Leipsic,  1887.  Consult:  Guyau,  Ln  Morale 
(VEpiriirr',  Paris,  1878. 


Philosophy  in  the  Fourth  and  Third  Centuries     419 

doctrine  once  established,  every  one  adhered  to  it  without  the  least 
mental  reaction.  Epicureanism,  as  an  ancient  writer  said,  had  no 
sects ;  a  rigorous  orthodoxy  was  fully  sufficient  for  minds  so  little 
exigent,  for  men  more  eager  to  attain  practical  happiness  than  to 
undertake  free  research. 

Yet  there  was  an  Epicurean  doctrine,  comprising  a  logic,  a  system 
of  the  universe,  and  a  morals.  Logic,  or  canonic  (xavwv,  to  kovovlkov), 
established  the  principle  that  all  knowledge  comes  from  sensation. 
Hence  the  universe  can  be  conceived  only  as  a  whole  composed  of 
sensible  things.  The  physics  of  Democritus,  which  reduced  exist- 
ence to  atoms,  was  the  one  best  suited  to  Epicurus.  He  adopted  it 
in  its  main  features.  He  added  apparently  only  two  elements,  and 
these  are  in  no  way  of  a  scientific  nature :  a  theory  of  the  KXtVa/icv, 
that  famous  *'  declension  "  of  the  atoms  which  admits  that,  without 
one's  knowing  why,  they  deviated  from  the  vertical  in  their  eternal 
fall,  and  were  drawn  together  to  form  the  different  bodies ;  then  the 
theory  of  chance,  according  to  which  no  necessity,  no  determinism, 
not  even  any  divine  thought,  presides  over  the  growth  of  objects;  and 
that  this  growth  results  from  a  fortuitous  combination  of  circum- 
stances. The  puerile  notion  is  really  the  negation  of  all  science. 
But  Epicurus  had  at  heart  the  eradication  of  the  Stoic  el/juipfjiivr], 
which  seemed  to  him,  like  the  doctrine  of  Providence,  essentially 
contrary  to  the  serenity  of  the  sage  (aTapa^ia).  He  did  not  deny  the 
existence  of  the  gods ;  but,  like  Democritus,  he  accorded  them  no  part 
in  the  conduct  of  the  universe.  The  soul  is  only  a  subtler  substance 
infused  into  the  body  proper.  Morals  has  for  its  object  the  pursuit 
of  happiness.  This,  like  all  the  rest,  is  discernible  by  sensation. 
Superstitious  fear  once  having  been  removed,  man  needs  only  to  seek 
agreeable  sensations  to  be  happy.  Epicurus  said  this  again  and 
again  with  intentional,  premeditated  crudity ;  he  did  not  shrink 
from  astonishing  his  reader,  or  even  offending  him.  Does  it  follow 
that  man  is  to  abandon  himself  to  his  passions,  and  blindly  follow, 
like  the  beasts,  his  instinct  of  pleasure  ?  No.  There  are  immediate 
pleasures  for  which  we  atone  later  by  suffering.  Wisdom  consists 
in  propriety  of  choice;  and  thus,  in  the  end,  Epicurus  gradually 
introduced  into  his  system  most  of  the  practical  rules  of  ordinary 
ethics. 

It  cannot  be  said,  then,  that  his  morals  must  necessarily  result 
in  immorality.  His  example,  and  that  of  his  principal  disciples,  is 
sufficient  proof.  They  were  prudent,  gentle  to  others  as  well  as  to 
themselves,  and  thoroughly  well-meaning.  Yet  it  is  no  less  certain 
that  the  doctrine,  on  the  whole,  was  dangerous.  It  is  always  dan- 
gerous to  take  away  the  notion  of  duty.     Ordinary  and  merely  medi- 


420  Ghreek  Literature 

ocre  natures  let  themselves  slip  down  along  the  declivity ;  and,  in 
fact,  if  not  in  good  logic,  morality  itself  is  compromised.  Here, 
again,  the  history  of  Epicureanism  is  instructive.  By  the  side  of 
intelligent,  moderate  Epicureanism  there  was  a  vulgar  type,  which 
was  manifested  in  literature  as  well  as  in  life.  It  abstracted  from 
literature  much  of  its  energy  and  nobility,  and  was  certainly  one  of 
the  most  powerful  solvents  of  ancient  character. 

5.  Pyrxhojuid  Scepticism ;  TimoaJiie  ^illogyfllftfe-  —  So  many  con- 
tradictory affirmations,  equally  categorical,  coming  from  Stoicism 
and  Epicureanism,  to  say  nothing  of  the  ancient  schools,  could  give 
rise  only  to  a  sceptical  reaction.  This  was  the  work  of  Fyrrho 
of  Elis. 

He  was  born  about  360,  and  died  about  270;  and  was  first„a 
painter,  then  a  disciple  of  the  philosophy  of  Democritus,  and  finally 
a  teacher  of  scepticism  to  his  countrymen.*  He  followed  the  path 
of  happiness,  like  all  his  contemporaries.  But  an  examination  of 
doctrines  convinced  him  that  neither  the  reason  of  the  Stoics  nor 
the  sensation  of  Epicurus  could  bring  about  that  end.  Tiie..truth,  in 
short,  in  every  order  of  things,  w^a  itiaccessible  to  man.  Hehad 
reached  an  easy  decision.  To  know  how  not  to  know  was,  in  his 
eyes,  the  supreme  wisdom.  He  would  have  said  gladly,  with  Mon- 
taigne, that  doubt  is  a  "soft  pillow  for  a  well-made  head."  His 
instruction  aimed  to  make  his  disciples  understand  that  true  happi- 
jiess  coii&iatedjn  not  being  anxious  concerning  things  which  one  can- 
^ot  know.  To  be  happy,  man  needed  only  to  practise  suspension  of 
judgment,  the  famous  c7ro;(iJ  so  often  mentioned,  since  Pyrrho,  in 
philosophical  discussions. 

He  wrote  nothing,  and  so  the  scepticism  he  originated  would 
elude  the  history  of  literature,  if  he  had  not  had  as  a  disciple  Timon 
of  Phlius. 

Timon,  a  talented  prose-writer  and  poet,  was  born  toward  the 
close  of  the  fourth  century.^  It  is  said  that  he  was  at,jB.r§t  .a.. dancer. 
He  then  listened  to  Stilpo  of  Megara,  and  afterward  to  Pyrrho, 
whose  doctrines  he  accepted.  He  led  a  wandering  life.  He  appears 
to  have  followed  the  profession  of  a  sophist  by  giving  oratorical 
entertainments  in  all  parts  of  the  Greek  world,  but  especially  at 
Athens.  He  knew  the  most  illustrious  of  his  contemporaries. 
Antigonus  Gonatas  and  Ptolemy  Philadelphus  testify  to  his  kindly 
spirit.  He  died  at  the  age  of  ninety,  leaving  a  great  name  behind, 
because  of  his  numerous  writings  in  prose  and  verse.  His  prose 
works  are  unknown  to  us.     His  poems  belonged  to  the  most  varied 

^  Cf.  Rrochard,  Pyrrhon  ct  le  sreptirisme  primitif  {Rev.  Philos.,  May,  1885). 
2  Cf.  Mullach,  Fragm.  Phil.  Gr<zc.  I,  p.  83  ff. 


Philosophy  in  the  Fourth  and  Third  Centuries     421 

types,  but  one  of  the  most  celebrated  was  a  philosophic  poem  called 
Bailleries  (^cKkoi),  of  which  we  have  about  a  hundred  and  forty 
verses.  It  is  a  satirical  review  of  the  systems,  ridiculing  them  in 
a  sort  of  NcKvwi  apparently,  which  described  the  death  of  their 
authors.  The  obituaries  of  the  philosophers  have  the  merit  of  being 
ingenious,  and  of  coming  from  a  man  who  knew  the  subject-matter 
of  which  he  treated.  Most  of  the  little  medallions  are  as  pleasing 
as  instructive.  His  pun  on  the  Museum  at  Alexandria,  which  he 
called  the  "pigeon-house  of  the  Muses,"  is  celebrated.  There  is 
nothing  insignificant  in  the  whole  series  of  lively,  short  pictures. 

After  Timon,  the  school  of  Pyrrho  seems  to  have  vanished. 
There  is  no  school  of  real  scepticism  till  much  later,  the  time  of 
^nesidemus ;  nor  is  there  any  evident  affiliation  between  the  two 
schools.  Yet  Pyrrho's  spirit  did  not  disappear  without  leaving  any 
impression ;  curiously  enough,  in  the  third  century  the  school  of 
Plato  adopted  it.  The  probability  of  the  Middle  and  the  New 
Academy  is  derived,  in  part  at  least,  from  Pyrrhonism. 

6.  The  Middle  and  the  New  Academy :  Arcesilaus  and  Carneades.  — 
The  ]\Iiddle  Academy  is  best  represented  by  Arcesilaus  (315-241 
roughly),  who  was  scholarch  about  260 ;  and  the  New  Academy  by 
Carneades  (215-129),  who  was  scholarch  a  century  later.  The  list 
of  scholarchs  includes  between  the  two  men  only  obscure  names. 
The  doctrinal  differences  between  the  Middle  and  New  Academies 
are  very  slight,  and  can  be  explained  only  by  a  minute  analysis.  On 
the  contrary,  they  agree  on  a  capital  point  in  which  they  differ  widely 
from  Plato.  They  declare  that  man  cannot  attain  absolute  truth,  that 
the  sage  must  suspend  his  judgment  concerning  the  essence  of  things, 
and  must  be  content,  in  practical  life,  with  probability,  which  results 
principally  from  a  logic  of  discourse,  as  it  were.  The  Middle  and 
New  Academies  employed  the  logic  of  discourse  in  the  service  of 
Platonic  morals,  which  was  despoiled  of  its  most  original  features, 
and  became  simply  a  jjurified  form  of  current  morality.  How  could 
the  school  of  Plato  reach  this  semi-sceptic  attitude  ?  !More  easily 
than  would  seem  possible  at  first  glance.  Plato  himself  made  the 
])Ossession  of  truth  depend  on  a  knowledge  of  ])ure  Ideas,  and 
saw  simply  oi)inions  in  our  judgments  concerning  sensible  tilings. 
When  the  theory  of  the  Ideas  was  shaken,  as  happened  even  in 
the  second  generation  of  the  school,  nothing  substantial  remained. 
The  categorical  dogmatism  of  the  Stoics  and  the  scepticism  of 
Pyrrho  hastened  the  movement,  each  in  its  own  way  ;  Arcesilaus, 
in  fact,  combated  the  excesses  of  the  former  with  arguments  bor- 
rowed from  the  latter,  and  thenceforth  the  theory  of  probability 
reigned  in  the  Academy.     Probability  had  great  success,  owing  to 


422  Greek  Literature 

its  own  character  and  to  the  talent  of  its  defenders.  Arcesilaus  was 
an  ardent,  clever  disputant,  cunning  and  incomprehensible,  ingenious 
and  pungent  on  occasion,  as  much  loved  by  his  disciples  as  detested 
by  his  enemies.  Carneades  was  no  less  subtle,  and  had  excellent 
oratorical  gifts — a  powerful  voice,  vivid  imagination,  and  a  warmth 
which  carried  away  his  auditors.  In  156,  the  Athenians  appointed 
him  ambassador  to  the  Roman  Senate,  to  plead  their  cause  against 
the  inhabitants  of  Sicyon.  He  profited  by  his  residence  at  Rome 
to  give  there  what  are  called  to-day  ''lectures."  He  took  for  his 
subject,  "  Justice."  One  day  he  proved  that  it  existed,  and  the 
next  day  that  it  did  not.  Such  skilful  oratory  offended  the  old 
Romans.  Yet  Cicero  was  a  disciple  of  the  New  Academy.  Proba- 
bility, in  fact,  is  a  doctrine  that  must  please  a  great  lawyer.  Con- 
fined within  prudent  limits  and  tempered  by  serious  considerations 
arising  from  the  necessities  of  conduct,  it  leads  to  a  very  useful 
theory  of  prudence  in  assertion.^  Unfortunately,  it  was  not  thus 
tliat  its  inventors  seem  to  have  understood  it.  Greek  subtlety 
had  an  innate  tendency  toward  sophism,  particularly  in  the  free 
play  of  dispute  in  the  schools,  where  speculation  knew  no  limits. 
The  New  Academy,  in  fact,  often  indulged  in  sophistry,  and  often 
seemed  to  resemble  Protagoras  rather  than  Plato. 
j  The  dominant  traits  of  this  philosophic  evohition  from  the  fourth 

L  to  the  second  century  are,  in  all  the  schools,  the  gradual  abandon- 
\  ment  of  metaphysics  and  the  preponderance  of  morals,  to  which  all 
|tended ;  and  in  morals,  two  great  systems.  One  was  austere  and  sub- 
lime, the  strong  aliment  of  a  narrow,  elite  class;  the  other  was  easier 
and  more  seductive.  Comprehended  to  a  greater  or  less  degree,  the 
latter  tended  to  put  men's  wills  to  sleep  and  free  their  minds  from 
labor.  Incidentally  there  was  a  brilliant  school  of  serai-philosophic 
discussion.  Evidently,  l>eneatli  its  specious,  external  appearance, 
this  philosophy  was  leading  the  Greek  world  imperceptibly  to  its 
decadence. 

'  Cf.  C.  Martha,  Le   Philosophe  Carneade  a  Rome,  in  his  Jitudes  morales 
sur  V antiquite. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

RHETORIC  AND  ERUDITION  AFTER  ALEXANDER 

(From  300  to  about  150) 

1.  Hellenism  after  Alexander.  The  New  Intellectual  Capitals :  Alexandria, 
Pergamou,  Antioch,  etc.  2.  Rhetoric.  3.  History.  4.  Geography.  5.  His- 
tory of  Philosophy,  Letters,  and  Fine  Arts.  6.  Philology  and  Grammar. 
7.  Technology.  8.  Semi-Romantic  Literature.  9.  Jewish-Greek  and 
Apocryphal  Literature.  J 

1 .  Hellenism  after  Alexander.  The  New  Intellectual  Capitals :  Alex- 
andria, Pergamon,  Antioch,  etc.  — Comedy  and  philosophy,  as  we  have 
seen,  continued  to  flourish  in  the  third  century  in  the  atmosphere  of 
Athens  as  in  a  salubrious  climate.  They  were  like  two  delicate 
plants  refusing  to  become  acclimated  under  foreign  skies.  But  this 
"was  not  true  of  Greek  culture  in  general,  for  that  was  ^j^eadjo^the 
conquests  of  Alexander  throughout  the  Oriental  and  Mediterranean 
regions ;  and  as  the  relish  for  literature  was  an  essential  trait  of 
Hellenism,  literature,  in  one  form  or  another,  was  cultivated  wher- 
ever, following  the  arms  of  Macedon,  Hellenic  colonies  became  estab- 
lished. New  kingdoms,  arising  from  the  division  of  Alexander's 
empire,  were  finally  organized.  New  cities  were  founded,  and  some 
of  the  old  cities  of  Asia  were  transformed  and  enlarged.  They  had 
Greek  princes,  a  court,  a  brilliant  society,  libraries,  schools,  and  cul- 
"tnre  of  every  sort.  Alexandria,  Pergamon,  Antioch,  had  become 
great  politicaT  and  commercial  centres-,  and  were  also  intellectual 
capitals. 

Alexandria  is  the  most  complete  and  brilliant  type  of  the  new 
capitals.  It  is  also  the  one  whose  influence  over  literature  was 
exercised  with  the  greatest  continuity ;  and  so  very  naturally  the 
period  comprised  between  the  death  of  Alexander  and  the  battle  of 
Actiuno^is  called,  in  the  history  of  Greek  literature,  the  Alexandrian 
Period. 

lietween  the  canal  of  T*haros  and  Lake  Mareotis,  on  a  long  strip 
of  land,  there  once  lay  an  obscure  Egyptian  city.  Alexander  per- 
ceived the  unique  advantages  of  the  location,  and  founded  Alexan- 
dria there.  Fifty  years  later,  under  the  first  of  the  Ptolemies,  the 
young  city  had  more  tlian  three  hundred  thousand  inhabitants ;  it 

423 


424  Greek  Literature 

was  the  greatest_city  in  the  world.  Its  prodigious^grQwth,  resem- 
bling that  of  certain  American  cities  to-day,  had  its  ori^n  in  com- 
merce. Alexandria  lay  at  the  point  of  contact  of  the  great  civilizations 
of  antiquity,  which  had  been  suddenly  brought  together  by  the  con- 
quests of  Alexander.  Egypt,  the  Orient,  Greece,  and  the  Western 
Mediterranean,   had   their   rendezvous   in  its  immense   port.     The 

Pfnlpp^ipg    -vverP     intpHigPnt.    anr)    gml^ifinng        When    they    SaW    that 

their  capital  had  become  the  wealthiest  city  of  the  world,  they 
wished  it  to  be  also  the  most  highly  cultured  and  literary.  Ptolemy 
Soter  had  already  begun  to, colleiita.-liWary.  But  apparently  it  was 
Philadelphus  who  founded  it  definitely  and  completed  it  by  adding 
the  Museum.  At  his  death,  the  great  library  contained  fqur_  hun- 
"7^  dred  jdiousaiid_vohiiries ;  and  another,  established  in  the  Serapeum, 
(  contained  fifty  thousand.     These  figures  did  not  stop  increasing  till, 

1  in  the  year  47,  the  time  of  the  fire  succeeding  Cesar's  entry  into  the 

\^  city,  the  total  had  reached  seven  hundred  thousand  volumes.     The 

^Oi  Museum  was  consecrated  to  the  Muses,  as  its  name  indicates.  A 
high  priest  had  cTTafgelTf~rt;  Nujueruus  edifices  were  built  beside 
it  and  associated  with  it.  One  such,  probably,  served  as  a  domi- 
cile for  the  great  library.  Others  contained  dissecting  rooms  and 
astronomical  observatories.  In  the  gardens  were  rare  animals  and 
exotic  plants.  Porches  ran  around  the  whole  group  of  buildings. 
By  following  these,  one  reached  an  elegant  structure  in  which  were 
two  important  halls:  one  was  the  Exedra,  which  served  as  a  place 
of  reunion  for  scholars  connected  with  the  ^luseum ;  the  other  was 
their  dining  hall.  In  fact,  a  numerous  coterie  lived  beneath  the 
shadow  of  the  ]\[useum,  which  resembled  an  abbey,  a  university,  and 
an  academy  at  once.  It  was  really  all  the  Muses  that  the  kings  of 
Egypt  entertained  in  this  fine  palace.  "  Pigeonhouse  of  the  Muses  " 
is  the  nickname  bestowed  upon  it  by  the  satirist  Timon.  The 
expression  is  satirical;  but  who  can  say  that  it  is  wholly  unjust  ? 
The  Muses  naturalized  at  Alexandria  were  no  longer,  it  is  true, 
quite  the  same  as  the  ]\Iuses  of  Helicon.  They  sang  no  longer  for 
the  same  public,  nor  did  they  utter  the  same  notes. 

Till  then,  (xreek  literature  in  its  -  pnijcixial_  fornas_had  been  pro- 
foundly national  and  popular.  It  was  now  to  become  cosmopolitan 
and  polished.  "For  centuries  it  had  been  the  spontaneous  expression 
of  those  ideas  and  sentiments  by  whi<^li  tlie  city  was  nourished.  It 
was  atldressed  ])articularly  to  the  inhabitants  of  Athens,  and  to  them 
all.  without  distinction  of  class  or  culture.  Even  the  philosophy  of 
Sorrates,  which  attained  a  universal  character,  was  both  profoundly 
Atlienian  in  its  principal  features  and  popular  in  its  mode  of  ex])res- 
sion.     Socrates  was  an  Athenian  talking  to  the  first  comers  among 


Rhetoric  and  Erudition  after  Alexander         425 

his  countrymen.  In  poetry  and  oratory,  the  national  popiJar  charac- 
ter is  still  more  clearly  marked.  But  after  Alexander's  conquests, 
literature  was  addressed  to  tha-CulLuxfid  aud  educated  classes  througTir' 
out  the  world,  and  to  them  almost  exclusively.  The  multitude  was 
no  longer  considered.  Whether  a  book  were  written  at  Alexandria 
or  Pergamon  made  little  difference ;  it  was  still  the  same.  It  was 
written  by  cosmopolitan  scholars  for  readers  of  the  same  sort,  and 
interested  only  the  universal  yet  restricted  circle  of  educated  men, 
that  lived  in  the  various  cities  of  the  Greek  world  and  possessed 
everywhere  the  same  culture.  The  people  did  not  know  them  nor 
they  the  people.  In  many  of  the  newly  Hellenized  cities,  the  mul- 
titude remained  semi-barbarous,  speaking  the  language  of  commerce, 
a  Greek  full  of  solecisms.  Even  in  the  land  of  the  Greek  race,  when 
local  political  life  had  disappeared,  when  the  ordinary  outlook  of  the 
cultured  was  toward  a  vaster  horizon,  a  schism  was  brought  about 
between  the  educated  and  the  common  crowd.  A  scholar  of  Tauro- 
menium  was  much  nearer  in  thought  to  a  scholar  of  Athens  or  Alexan- 
dria than  to  his  ignorant  countrymen.  The  poets  aimed  to  win  the  favor 
of  literary  circles  throughout  the  world  rather  than  that  of  their  im- 
mediate fellow-citizens,  as  these  were  engrossed  with  the  humble  cares 
of  a  life  of  business,  amid  which  lofty  thinking  scarcely  had  a  place. 
This  polished  universal  character  of  the  literature  was  manifest 
in  both  substance  and  form.  To  say  nothing  of  poetry,  which  we 
shall  treat  in  a  later  chapter,  certain  prose  types  disappeared,  others 
were  transformed,  and  still  others  made  their  appearance  for  the 
first  time.  In  all  of  them,  the  language,  the  style,  the  fundamental 
inspiration,  assumed  a  new  character.  Philosophy,  as  we  have  seen, 
was  confined  almost  to  Athens,  and  need  not  be  discussed  further. 
Real  oratory  disappeared  for  want  of  interest  and  occasions  ;  there 
remained  only  rhetoric  and  the  oratory  of  declamation.  Among  the 
types  which  had  become  important  in  Attic  prose,  only  history  con- 
tinued suitable  for  a  book-loving  public.  In  fact,  it  flourished  then 
more  abundantly  than  ever.  One  might  almost  say  that  it  went 
rampant ;  for  every  one  3YX0te  lLQi)ks  of  Jnstqr^-^  2fiSii--^i^^-^d.  Not 
only  were  the  old  forms  preserved,  but  new  ones  arose  —  the  history 
of  art,  artists,  autliors,  philosophers,  and  scholars.  Besides  old  and 
new  forms  of  history,  all  branches  of  knowledge  were  cultivated 
with  extreme  ardor,  mathematics,  physics,  natural  sciences,  medi- 
cine ;  then  disciplines  either  wholly  new  or  so  enlarged  as  virtually 
to  be  renewed,  such  as  grammar,  philology,  and  musical  technique. 
In  every  direction  there  was  diligent  research,  a  universal  and 
intense  desire  to  understand  the  tilings  of  nature  and  humanity, 
present   conditions   and   those   of   the  past.     Men   read,  compiled, 


426  Greek  Literature 

observed,  coordinated,  made  summaries.  The  passion  for  knowl- 
edge was  so  universal  as  to  be  manifest  even  among  those  who  were 
strictly  poets.  TEe  majority  of  the  great  Alexandrian  poets  were 
scholars  as  well.  Erudition  was  pharapfpriaf^o  rif  f)i^  poT.ir>/|  distin- 
guishing it  from  all  others.  There  ^s  something  grand  in  this  search 
for  knowledge.  The  Alexandrians  wished  to  take  an  inventory  of 
the  past  of  Greece  and  of  the  contemporary  world.  It  was  a  noble 
ambition,  still  worthy  of  the  Greek  spirit,  and  we  must  be  thankful 
for  it.  Yet  it  must  be  owned  that  the  past  lay  beyond  their  ken. 
Excepting  some  few  men  of  genius,  most  of  them  lacked  certain  of 
the  qualities  of  scholarship.  In  their  immense  productivity,  there 
was  more  compilation  than  research,  and  little  criticism  or  true  phi- 
losophy. In  the  literature  of  the  time  there  were  still  more  serious 
imperfections.  "We  have  little  more  thau  its  debris,  but  we  get  a 
very  clear  impression  of  it.  Among  so  many  prose  writers,  there 
were  but  few  artists,  few  men  with  a  characteristic  and  original 
manner  of  stating  the  impression  made  on  them  by  their  environ- 
ment. One  may  praise  their  diligence  as  scholars,  yet  scarcely 
their  literary  talent.  They  were  laborious  workers,  rather  than 
original  writers.  The  fault  cannot  be  wholly  imputed  to  them- 
selves ;  the  subjects  which  they  treated  often  afforded  only  moderate 
opportunity  for  clearness  and  correctness.  These  qualities,  too,  they 
often  possessed.  They  wrote  a  somewhat  artificial  language,  a  cos- 
mopolitan Attic  called  the  ''common  dialect"  (/coiv^  SmAcKros),  which 
was  the  language  of  the  educated  in  every  land  of  Hellenic  culture. 
They  employed  it  with  sufficient  cleverness  to  please  and  instruct 
their  contemporaries.  They  could  not  give  their  style  a  personal 
impress,  either  because  they  had  no  marked  individuality  or  had  no 
occasion  to  display  it.  All  their  literature  is  essentially  bookish. 
All  the  men  of  the  period  had  a  ceHaili'dOTlKitlllltyTSf'  g^irefalxul- 
ture,  which  permitted  even  mediocre  minds  to  become  scholars,  and 
tended  to  efface  personal  distinctions.  Most  of  them,  too,  largely 
cut  off  from  political  and  social  activity,  were  limited  by  circum- 
stances to  a  somewhat  narrow  specialty,  in  which  their  heart  was 
scarcely  interested.  Their  genius  could  display  itself  perhaps  in  the 
discoveries  it  made,  but  not  in  its  form  of  expression. 

We  need  not  give  the  list  of  these  fastidious  productions,  as  they 
are  now  forgotten.  The  really  important  thing  is  to  describe  the 
activity  as  a  whole,  outline  its  principal  tendencies,  and  note  inci- 
dentally the  names  and  works  that  seem  to  have  opened  a  new  path 
or  left  an  unusually  clear  trace  of  themselves  in  the  memory  of  men, 
owing  to  their  originality  or  their  talent.' 

^  A  capital  work  on  all  the  writers  of  this  period  is  Susemihl,  Geschichte  der 
'jr.  LUtfratur  in  der  Alexandrinerzeit.  2  vols.,  Leipsic.  1891-1892. 


Rhetoric  and  Erudition  after  Alexander         427 

2.  Rhetoric.  —  The  Alexandrian  period  is  not  simply  one  of  life- 
lessness  for  oratory  in  the  strict  sense,  but  marks  also  a  veritable 
eclipse  of  rhetoric.  Between  the  rhetoric  of  Attica  and  that  of  Rome, 
there  is  no  break  of  continuity ;  for  we  know  the  names  of  numerous 
teachers  and  schools  then  flourishing.  But  there  was  a  distinction 
in  brilliance  and  influence.  Rhetoric  was  not  in  vogue.  Men  pre- 
ferred works  of  erudition.  This  is  not  really  a  misfortune.  The 
precepts  of  Isocrates  on  hiatus,  oratorical  rhythm,  and  nobility  of 
style  continued  to  be  taught,  and  were  put  in  practice  more  or  less 
correctly  by  a  number  of  writers.  But  this  was  mere  rhetorical 
exercise,  not  literature.  The  only  name  worthy  of  mention  is  that 
of  Hegesias  of  Magnesia,  who  lived  in  the  middle  of  the  third  cen- 
tury, and  whose  innovations  exercised  some  influence.^  But  the 
influence  was  unhappy ;  he  founded  the  first  "  Asiatic "  school,  a 
school  noteworthy  for  pretension,  for  the  absence  of  true  ideas  and 
sentiments,  and  its  search  for  conceits  and  false  lights  of  every  sort. 
He  had  used  such  a  style  of  writing  in  several  works,  notably  a 
Histomj  of  Alexander  the  Great,  which  Dioiiysius  of  Halicarnassus 
already  censured  as  showing  bad  taste.  That  critic  justified  his  cen- 
sure by  citing  a  page  that  certainly  merits  his  severity.  But  Hege- 
sias was  applauded  and  imitated.  His  influence  is  manifest  in  the 
historian  Timaeus.  The  definite  reaction  against  him  did  not  come 
till  almost  the  end  of  the  second  century. 

3,  History.  —  History  was  more  serious,  though  making  some 
concessions  to  the  offensive  fashion.  It  generally  showed  interest, 
wide  information,  extensive  reading,  and  some  criticism.  Its  most 
noticeable  fault  was  with  respect  to  the  feeling  for  reality,  the  com- 
prehension of  politics  and  war.  Too  many  historians  of  the  time 
were  only  book-worms,  who,  in  default  of  personal  observation,  had 
not  even  true  fondness  for  the  subjects  which  they  treated,  and  were 
more  disposed  to  use  them  as  occasions  to  display  rhetoric  or 
erudition  than  as  objects  of  scientific  study. 

Exception  must  be  made,  however,  in  favor  of  a  few  generals  or 
statesmen  who  wrote  memoirs  of  the  events  in  which  they  had  taken 
part,  and  so  patterned  after  the  author  of  the  Anabasis.  However, 
though  our  knowledge  of  them  is  very  slight,  it  does  not  seem  that 
they  were  really  writers. 

Among  this  group  we  meet  Ptolemy -Seter,  the  lieutenant  of 
Alexander  who  became  king  of  Egypt.'"*  He  wrote  a  History  of  Alex- 
ander, often  cited  with  favor  by  Arrian.     "We  may  mention  also 

1  Frasraents  in  Miiller,  after  those  of  Arrian,  in  his  Fragments  of  the  His- 
torians of  Alexander,  pp.  138-144. 

2  Fraj,aiients  in  Miiller,  sup.  cit. 


428  Greek  Literature 

Pyrrhus,  king  of  Epirus,  author  of  Memoirs,  now  lost;  Aratus  of 
Sicyon,  general  of  the  Achsean  League,  and  author  of  voluminous 
Memoirs  (thirty  books),  whose  style  Plutarch  censures,  but  whose 
veracity  Polybius  commends ;  and  H^m^jhal-  the.celebraifiiLCaxtha-. 
ginian  general;^  author  of  a  few  historical  yrorks  in.  Gixeek,  —  memoirs 
also,  no  doubt,  which  consequently  deserve  mention. 

Besides  this  first  group  of  writings,  of  not  much  importance  all  in 
all,  the  historical  literature  of  the  time  is  extremely  abundant  and 
varied.  In  order  to  get  one's  bearings,  it  is  indispensable  to  arrange 
the  names  and  works  in  a  few  general  groups. 

1.  The  collections,  of  material  can  scarcely  be  regarded  as  his- 
torical works,  but  they  were  highly  useful.  Aristotle's  example  had 
given  a  lii'ely  impulse  to  such  writings.  In  the  tlTird  and  second 
centuries  they  were  multiplied  to  infinity.  The  Macedonian  Crate- 
rus,  son  of  the  general  of  Alexander,  made  a  Collection  of  the  Degrees 
of  the  Athenian  People.  Tlie  historian  Philochorus  published  a  Collec- 
tion of  Attic  Inscriptions.  Books  were  written  On  Games,  On  Sacrifices, 
On  Festivals;  also  "Miscellanies,"  "Xotes,"  etc.,  on  a  thousand  partic- 
ular subjects.  Demetrius  of  Scepsis,  at  the  beginning  of  the  second 
century,  wrote  a  great  work  in  thirty  books  entitled  Catalogue  of 
the  Trojans,  an  inexhaustible  storehouse  of  information  on  the 
antiquities  of  the  Troad. 

2.  Other  writings,  though  more  closely  resembling  historical 
narratives,  were  still  scarcely  literary.  Such  are  chronicles^^ournals, 
and  numerous  ephemerides  of  every  sort.  The  Ephemerides  of  Ale. v^ 
ander  (^acrtXeiot  icf>r]ixepLBe<i),  the  official  diary  of  the  campaign,  edited 
by  two  eyewitnesses,  Eumenes  of  Cardia  and  Diodotus  of  Erythrtva, 
were  somewhat  like  the  M>^moires  de  Dangeau  of  ^Macedonian  epic. 
We  find  also  the  Halting-places  of  Alexander,  by  Beto  and  Diog- 
netus;  the  Halting-pjlaces  in  Asia,  by  Amyntas ;  the  Chronology 
{XfjQvdiv  a.vaypa4>ri)  of  Sosibius ;  the  Chronography  (Ilcpi  xpoyoypacjudv) 
of  the  great  geographer  Eratosthenes,  a  work  in  which  important  theo- 
ries seem  chiefly  to  have  been  propounded ;  and  very  numerous  local 
chronicles,  particularly  the  Atthids,  or  Chronicles  of  Athens,  in  the 
style  of  the  early  writer  Hellanicus.  There  were  authors  of  Atthids 
throughout  the  fourth  century.  At  the  end  of  the  fourth  and  the 
beginning  of  the  third,  the  most  celebrated  were  Philochorus,  a  sooth- 
sayer by  profession,  who  was  scholarly  but  uncritical ;  and  Istrus,  a 
pupil  of  Callimachus,  whose  work,  in  sixteen  books,  was  a  rich 
source  of  infcjrniation.^  Other  writers  undertook  to  inform  (rreece 
about  the  neighboring  peoples.  The  Chronicles  of  Chaldiea  (XaXSaiKa.) 
and  the    Clrronich^s  of  Egyjit  ( AiyvTrruiKa)   pass  respectively   as  the 

^  Fr;ii,'nK-nt.s  in  Miiller,  Fr.  Jltat.  Grcec.  I,  p.  ^71  ff. 


Rhetoric  and  Erudition  after  Alexander         429 

works  of  the  Chaldaean  Berosus,  priest  of  Bel,  and  of  the  Egyptian 
Manetho,  priest  of  the  temple  of  Sebennytus,  who  were  said  to  have 
lived  about  the  end  of  the  fourth  century.  In  reality,  the  works 
were  probably  written  by  two  Hellenized  Orientals  of  the  end  of  the 
second  century  b.c.  ^ 

3.  Political  biography  appeared  with  the  work  of  Idomeneus  of 
Lampsacus,  a  disciple  of  Epicurus,  On  the  Athenian  Demagogues. 
It  was  one  of  the  principal  sources  of  the  pseudo-Plutarch  in  his 
Lives  of  the  Ten  Orators,  but  a  rather  confused  source,  it  would 
seem. 

About  the  same  time,  the  Peripatetic  philosopher  Dicaearchus, 
celebrated  chiefly  as  a  geographer,  tried  to  present,  in  his  Life  of 
Hellas  (Btos  'EXAaSos),  a  general  view  of  Greek  customs.  His  account 
was  often  praised  by  the  ancients.  In  his  treatise  on  the  Laws  of 
Sjyarta,  he  gave  a  similar  account  of  life  in  that  city.^ 

4.  We  come  at  last  to  the  traditional  form  of  history,  which 
recounts  as  a  totality  the  great  events  in  the  life  of  a  people.  Here 
again,  in  the  abundance  of  writings,  it  is  necessary  to  distinguish 
the  principal  lines  along  which  the  activity  of  historians  is  directed. 
Timueus  of  Tauromenium  is  the  most  celebrated,  and  the  only  one 
whom  we  shall  really  study,  in  trying  to  discern  the  essential  fea- 
tures of  this  historical  art. 

The  expedition  of  Alexander,  which  had  already  given  occasion 
for  memoirs,  chronicles,  and  diaries,  was  destined  to  excite  the 
interest  of  historians  as  well.  It  offered  fine  material  —  dangerous, 
though,  owing  to  its  very  beauty  —  for  writers  more  imbued  with 
the  rhetorical  than  the  scientific  spirit,  especially  as  they  were  ad- 
dressing readers  on  the  alert  for  fascination.  This  material  was 
treated  by  a  large  number  of  historians,  of  whom  few  merit  men- 
tion.'' Aristobulus,  who  accompanied  the  expedition,  undertook  to 
give  an  account  of  it  in  his  old  age.  Arrian  commends  him,  for 
being,  with  Ptolemy,  the  most  truthful  historian  of  the  campaign. 
The  few  fragments  still  extant  prove  that  he  ])ossessed  a  line  mind, 
wary  of  the  marvellous  and  even  the  theatrical.  Chares  of  Mity- 
lene,  chamberlain  of  Alexander,  had  been  initiated  by  his  functions 
into  the  daily  life  of  the  court.  His  work,  in  at  least  ten  books, 
tended  to  occupy  itself  with  court  affairs.  He  seems  to  have  pat- 
terned after  Herodotus.     Onesicritus,  a  disciple  of  the  philosopher 

1  Fr.  Hist.  GrciiC.  11,  pp.  405-61 G.  Cf.  E.  Ilavet,  Jfemoire  sur  les  ecrits  qui 
portent  les  noms  de  Berose  et  do  Manethon,  Paris,  Ilacliette,  187o. 

2  Fr.  Hist.  Grcec.  II,  pp.  489-494  ;  Miiller,  Geoyrapki  Grceci  Minores,  I,  pp. 
97-110  ;  II,  pp.  288-243. 

3  Cf.  C.  MiilltT.  Fmfjments  of  the  Ifi.storians  of  Alexander  (after  tlie  fra^;;- 
mt'iits  from  Arrian). 


430  Greek  Literature 

Diogenes,  also  took  part  in  the  expedition.  He  went  to  India  as 
chief  pilot  of  the  fleet  under  Nearchus.  He  was  regarded  in  antiq- 
uity as  a  babbler.  One  of  his  fragments,  recounting  a  pretended 
conversation  of  his  with  the  Indian  "  gymnosophists,"  or  fakirs, 
certainly  comes  from  a  talented,  even  clear-sighted,  observer.  Cal- 
listhenes,  the  nephew  of  Aristotle,  whom  Alexander  put  to  death  as 
a  conspirator,  had  begun  to  write  the  History  of  Alexander.  He  also 
left  a  work  called  Hellenica.  The  pretended  conspirator,  curiously 
enough,  wrote  a  history  filled  with  flattery  and  rhetoric.  To  him 
there  was  later  attributed  a  Life  of  Alexander  still  extant ;  but  it  is 
unauthentic,  and  is,  in  any  case,  a  mere  fabrication  of  absurdities. 
The  other  historians  of  Alexander,  Clitarchus,  Anaximenes  of  Lamp- 
sacus,  and  Hegesias  of  Magnesia,  the  rhetorician  above  named, 
scarcely  deserve  mention. 

After  the  history  of  Alexander,  that  of  his  successors,  the  SiaSo- 
Xot,  and  that  of  Pyrrhus,  king  of  Epirus,  were  written.  The  best- 
known  historian  of  this  group  is  Hieronymus  of  Cardia,  whose  His- 
tory of  the  Successors  and  History  of  the  Epigoni  (including  Pyrrhus) 
seem  to  have  been  the  principal  sources  of  Diodorus  and  Plutarch 
for  this  period.     His  reputation  as  a  writer  was  mediocre. 

Other  historians  recounted  the  history  of  Italy  from  the  earliest 
times  to  the  First  Punic  War.  We  know  only  their  names  and  a 
few  insignificant  details.  The  best  known  of  these  historians  were 
Philinus  and  Sosylus. 

The  history  of  Greece  proper,  with  that  of  Sicily,  which  is  insep- 
arable from  it,  had  called  forth  more  important  works. ^  Several 
writers  of  this  group  deserve  mention.  Diyllus  of  Athens  wrote  a 
History  of  Greece  and  Sicily,  in  twenty-seven  books,  which  was  a 
sequel  to  the  work  of  Ephorus.  He  is  otherwise  little  known. 
Demochares,  a  nephew  of  Demosthenes  and  an  orator  also,  wrote, 
more  as  rhetorician  than  historian,  an  account  of  contemporary 
Athens.  Douris  of  Samos,  his  contemporary,  composed,  in  addition 
to  various  minor  works,  two  great  historical  treatises:  a  History  of 
Greece  and  Macedon  in  twenty -eight  or  thirty  books ;  and  a  History 
of  Agathocles,  completing  his  great  design.  He  seems  to  have  been 
a  man  of  good  judgment,  exempt  from  political  passion,  fond  of 
simplicity  in  style  and  of  piquant,  expressive  anecdotes.  Phylar- 
chus,  a  contemporary  of  Aratus  of  Sicyon  (second  half  of  the  second 
century),  author  of  a  great  work  in  twenty-eight  books  on  the  period 
of  about  seventy  years  from  the  beginning  of  the  reign  of  Pyrrhus 
to  the  death  of  Ptolemy  Euergetes,  was  a  biassed  historian  of  poli- 
tics, —  according  to  Polybius,  —  but  fond  of  describing  manners  and 
1  Cf.  C.  Muller,  Fr.  Hist.  Grcec.  II. 


Rhetoric  and  Erudition  after  Alexander         431 

relating  anecdotes.  He  wrote  in  an  easy  style,  if  one  may  form  a 
judgment  from  his  fragments.  Finally,  Timseus  of  Tauromenium 
is  the  most  celebrated  of  all,  the  one  from  whom  we  can  obtain  the 
clearest  idea  of  their  characteristics  as  a  class. ^ 

He  was  born  about  the  middle  of  the  fourth  century,  and  lived 
nearly  a  hundred  years,  till  the  middle  of  the  third.  He  brought" 
dowiihis  account  almost  to  the  date  of  his  death.  Driven  from, 
Tauromenium,  his  native  city,  by  Agathocles,  tyrant  of  Syracuse,  he 
came  to  Athens,  liveH^^there  almost  half  a  century,  and  returned  to 
pass  his  closing  years  in  Sicily,  probably  at  Syracuse,  where  Hiero 
II  was  reigning.  His  two  greatest  works  were  a  History  of  Sicily 
and  afterward  a  History  of  Pyrrhus.  The  narrative  began  with  the 
origins  of  Sicily,  and  closed  with  the  opening  of  the  First  Punic 
War,  in  264.  Of  this  vast  composition,  we  have  only  some  disap- 
pointing fragments ;  but  the  long  diatribes  hurled  against  him  by 
Polybius  enable  us  to  form  a  rather  good  idea  of  him,  —  even  to 
defend  him  somewhat  against  his  accuser,  who  evidently  spoke  in 
polemic  more,  sometimes,  than  in  criticism. 

The  great  merit  of  Timaeus,  on  which  we  must  insist  at  once, 
was  his  immense  learning.  He  had  read  everything,  and  particu- 
larly the  collections  of  original  documents,  whose  value  he  could 
well  appreciate.  He  was  very  independent  of  his  predecessors,  and 
judged  them  with  a  sanity  that  was  often  commended.  He  had 
good  sense  and  moderation.  He  did  not  magnify  his  numbers  like 
Ephorus ;  and  in  relating  matters  of  antiquity,  he  seems  to  have 
adhered  literally  to  the  legends.  Hence  Polybius  accuses  him  of 
falsity  and  superstition ;  but  perhaps  his  work  is  of  more  value  than 
the  awkwardly  rationalistic  interpretations  of  the  school  of  Ephorus. 
His  exactness  in  chronology  was  famous  and  deserves  praise :  into 
the  chaos  of  systems  then  in  use,  he  tried  to  put  order  and  lucidity ; 
he  established  the  relations  between  them  and  subordinated  all  to 
that  of  the  Olympiads.  Though  Polybius  derides  his  minuteness, 
he  was  the  first  to  profit  thereby;  and  no  one,  after  Timseus,  dared 
to  transgress  the  rules  lie  had  established  in  this  imi)ortant  matter. 

Notwithstanding  considerable  merits,  he  had  grave  defects,  which 
at  times  obscured  them.  He  knew  nothing  about  war  and  had  not 
travelled.  He  knew  only  books;  his  education  was  wholly  bookish 
(/8u;SAuxKT/  6^19,  says  Polybius).  He  was  like  a'^^Tiy'sTcTair  studying 
diseases  from  books  only,  or  a  painter  copying  only  manikins  (crco-ay- 
jxivoL  OvXaKoi)?  He  understood  nothing  of  the  things  he  described 
and  sometimes  made  his  account  unintelligible.  Besides  he  was 
hindered  by  fine  writing;  though  scorning  declamation,  he  employed 
1  Fr.  Hist.  Grcec.  I,  pp.  19.3-233.  2  Polybiiis,  XII.  26  h,  2. 


432  Greek  Literature 

in  history  all  the  bad  habits  of  the  rhetoricians.  His  only  concern 
was  to  bestow  blame  or  praise.  Both  his  eulogies  and  his  attacks 
go  beyond  measure,  and  are  mere  silly  declamations.  The  speeches 
he  puts  into  the  mouths  of  his  characters  are  neither  political 
nor  reasonable.  Certain  fragments  justify  largely  the  reproach  of 
Polybius.  His  style,  too,  shows  traces  of  the  same  bad  taste.  The 
best  ancient  critics,  such  as  Longinus  and  Cicero,  did  not  deny  his 
talent,  but  considered  it  Asiatic,  like  that  of  Hegesias,  which  was 
sullied  by  pretension  and  fine  writing. 

In  the  time  of  Polybius,  he  had  the  general  reputation  of  being 
the  foremost  of  historians ;  and  Polybius  himself  at  first  believed  in 
his  preeminence.  Nothing  shows  better  the  great  decadence  of  his- 
tory in  this  period,  and  the  importance  of  the  revolution  made  by 
Polybius  in  the  next  century. 

4.  Geography.  —  On  the  contrary,  geography^hat  annex  of  his- 
tory, then  made  great  progress  in  descriptive  and  ":'f.^:^^liiR'ti r;^  ^  H n pg 
The  conquests  of  Alexander  and  the  extension  of  commerce  opened 
horizons  unknown  to  the  Greek  mind.  New  lands  were  described,  a 
more  methodical  study  was  made  of  ancient  Greece,  and  the  progress 
of  exact  science  led  certain  minds  to  form  a  juster  idea  of  the  earth  as  a 
whole.  ^Euch,  indeed,  of  the  geographical  progress  was  not  properly 
literary,  and  belongs  rather  to  the  history  of  science.  Yet  descrip- 
tive geography,  at  least,  admitted  of  more  than  a  mere  exposition 
of  facts  and  figures ;  it  was  conceived  as  a  complete  picture  of  the 
lands  it  described,  and  space  was  given  to  customs,  ideas,  legends, 
and  a  summary  account  of  the  past.  A  writer,  consequently,  could 
display  his  talent  in  the  treatment  of  this  rich  subject-matter  by  the 
coloring  and  relief  of  his  picture.  Unfortunately,  we  possess  only 
debris  of  these  works,  and  generally  do  not  even  know  whether  the 
ancients  attributed  to  them  any  merit  aside  from  the  interest  of  the 
subjects.  It  is  probable,  however,  that  their  artistic  merit  was  slight, 
as  in  most  prose-writings  of  the  time.  The  prose-writers  were  learned 
and  scholarly  —  more  interested  in  things  than  in  words,  except  for 
being  irritated  by  rhetoric.  And  that  is  worse  than  not  knowing  it 
at  all.  We  may  confine  ourselves,  accordingly,  to  a  brief  character- 
ization.' 

In  descriptive  geography,  we  find  first  the  explorers  who  described 
new  lands.  Xearchus,  the  admiral  of  Alexander,  recounted  in  his 
Yl(.pLTr\ov%  the  descent  of  the  Indus  and  his  voyage  along  the  coast 
of  the  Indian  Ocean  as  far  as  the  Euphrates.  ^legasthenes,  who  is 
sometimes  ranged  among  the  historians  of  Alexander,  is  a  geographer 

•  ronsnit  :  C.  Miiller  (Diilot).  Geofjraphi  Grccci  Mitiores ;  and  Marcel  I>  i- 
b  <i-:.  Kxair.'  n  'It  la  (jeo'jruphit  dp  Strabon,  Paris,  18'J1. 


Rhetoric  and  Erudition  after  Alexander         433 

in  the  broader  sense  of  the  word.  Sent  several  times  by  Seleucus 
Nicator  to  the  Indian  prince  Sandracotta,  he  had  the  opportunity 
for  seeing  India  closely,  and  embodied  the  result  of  his  researches 
and  observations  in  a  work  entitled  'Iv8i»ca.  It  was  the  model  for 
many  analogous  writings.  Pytheas  of  Massilia,  who  had  visited 
the  Atlantic  coast  from  Gades  to  the  British  Isles,  published  notes 
of  his  voyage  in  a  treatise,  liepl  'fiKeavoS.  All  these  geographers  were 
judged  very  diversely  by  their  successors,  sometimes  with  a  severity 
traceable  to  differences  in  their  point  of  view,  and  in  no  way  justified. 
Megasthenes  seems  to  have  been  sincere  and  studious ;  and  Pytheas 
made  scientific  observations  of  permanent  value. 

Others  described  with  novel  precision  the  lands  already  known. 
Timosthenes,  the  admiral  of  Ptolemy  Philadelphus,  described  the 
ports  and  bays  of  the  Mediterranean.  The  Peripatetic  Dicaearchus 
noted  the  Measurements  of  the  Mountains  of  the  Peloponnesus.  Aga- 
tharchides  of  Cnidus  (first  half  of  the  second  century)  composed 
On  Europe  and  Asia,  a  vast  geographical  encyclopaedia  in  fifty -nine 
books,  written  in  an  agreeable,  original  style. 

Numerous  others  were  TrepLrjy-qraL,  guides  or  conductors  for  trav- 
ellers visiting  famous  cities.  Their  science  was  often  of  bad  alloy, 
and  their  literature  not  much  better.  Still,  one  was  really  celebrated  : 
it  was  Polemo,  who  was  born  toward  the  close  of  the  third  century 
in  a  suburb  of  the  New  Ilium.  He  was  author  of  a  multitude  of 
writings,  not  all  exclusively  descriptive.  He  may  have  had  some 
of  the  merits  of  a  true  scholar.  Scymnus  of  Chios  also  wrote  a 
rather  celebrated  UcpL^yr)(n<;,  in  the  second  century,  describing  the 
whole  of  the  world  then  known. 

Mathematical  geography  liad  a  much  more  illustrious  representa- 
tive in  Eratosthenes  of  Cyrene,  who  lived  in  the  third  century.'  A 
pupil  of  Callimachus,  fond  of  philosophy,  he  closed  his  life  as  libra- 
rian at  Alexandria.  He  was  a  many-sided  man  —  geometer,  geogra- 
pher, chronographer,  philosopher,  philologist,  and  even  ])oet.  As 
geographer  and  chronographer,  he  was  a  scholar  of  the  first  order. 
His  Georjraphy  (Tcwypa<^t.Ka),  in  three  books,  began  witli  a  review  of 
previous  geographical  systems.  The  little  that  we  know  of  it  shows 
rare  critical  acumen.  He  said  that,  in  Homer,  one  should  not  look  for 
facts.  He  added  ingeniously  that,  before  finding  the  route  followed 
by  Odysseus,  one  must  find  the  cobbler  who  sewed  together  the 
leather  bag  of  vEolus.  He  described  the  form  of  the  earth  as 
spherical,  and  studied  latitudes  and  longitudes,  the  relative  situa- 

1  Cf.  Bemhardy.  Eratnathenica,  Bedin,  1822.  Tlie  geo,£;rapliical  fraLcments 
of  Eratosthenes  are  almost  all  quoted  by  Strabo  in  his  prolegomena.  They  are 
edited  separately  by  Berger,  Leipsic,  1880. 


434  Cheek  Literature 

tion  of  countries,  and  the  phenomena  reported  by  explorers.  His 
last  work  was  an  account  of  the  political  geography  of  his  time. 
The  whole  was  accompanied  by  a  map.  His  work  was  certainly 
the  masterpiece  of  scientific  geography  in  antiquity.  His  Chronog- 
raphy  (IIcpi  )(povoypa<i>LCiv)  was  no  less  remarkable  for  critical  vigor 
and  good  sense.  It  is  he,  apparently,  who  first  said  that  the  historic 
period  began  with  the  Olympiads  and  that  the  preceding  ages  were 
legendary.  His  personal  researches  were  rewarded  by  a  mass  of  dis- 
coveries of  detail,  that  immediately  became  classic. 

5.  History  of  Philosophy,  Letters,  and  Fine  Arts.  —  The  history  of 
the  productions  of  the  human  mind  is  still  another  form  which  at 
that  time  took  on  considerable  importance.  Aristotle  had  already 
set  the  example  by  mentioning  with  each  question  the  works  of  his 
predecessors.  His  disciple,  TJ^gapliiaslua*  composed  special  works  on 
the  "  opinions "  (So^at)  of  the  philosophers.^  After  Theophrastus, 
Aristoxenus  of  Tarentum  wrote  Lives  of  the  Poets.  Heraclides  of 
3*ontus  touched  on  the  history  of  philosophy  (On  the  Pi/thagoreans), 
literary  history  (On  the  xige  of  Homer  and  Ilesiod,  On  Archilochus  and 
Homer),  and  the  history  of  music,  in  connection  with  Sophocles  and 
Euripides.  Chameleon,  his  countryman  and  contemporary,  composed 
numerous  writings  on  the  classic  poets  and  their  types  of  composi- 
tion. Antigonus  of  Carystus  in  Euboea,  a  scholar  and  philosopher, 
attracted  to  I'ergamon  by  Attains  I,  wrote  the  Lives  of  the  Philoso- 
phers, often  cited  by  Diogenes  Laertius ;  also  biographies  of  artists, 
rich  in  exact  information,  of  which  we  have  a  feeble  echo  in  Pliny 
the  Elder.  Sotion  of  Alexandria  (begiiining  of  the  second  century)  is 
the  author  of  a  celebrated  work  in  thirteen  books  on  the  Succession 
of  the  Philosophers  (SuxSo;^/)  twv  <^t/\oo-o<^wv),  the  relationship  of  the 
schools  and  doctrines,  a  work  which  was  one  of  the  principal 
sources  of  Diogenes  Laertius,  and  gave  rise  to  many  analogous 
treatises. 

6.  Philology  and  Grammar.  —  Erudite  interest  was  no  less  active 
in  ])hilology,  a  domain  then  brought  to  light  by  circumstances.  Be- 
fore the  Macedonian  hegemony,  the  Greeks  had  been  artists  and 
creators  in  literature,  rather  than  theorists  and  scholars.  The  diffu- 
sion of  Hellenism  after  Alexander,  and  the  foundation  of  the  library 
of  Alexandria,  and  later  that  of  Tergamon,  gave  to  philological  and 
grammatical  study  the  necessary  impetus.  Manuscripts  needed  to 
be  ])urchased,  and  the  authentic  and  the  apoory])hal  distinguished  ; 
the  treasures  thus  accumulated  needed  classification,  and  their  riches 
needed  to  be  made  accessible  to  readers.  Explanation  of  the  master- 
j)ieoes  was  called  for,  as  the  evolution  of  language  and  the  new  en- 

'  Cf.  Diels.  Doxofjraphi  Groeci,  Berlin,  1879. 


Rhetoric  and  Erudition  after  Alexander         435 

vironment  rendered  them  too  remote  even  for  the  throng  of  cultured 
readers.  Hence  there  were  catalogues,  scholia,  editions,  grammatical 
treatises  and  philological  writings  of  every  sort.  Evidently  none  of 
this  could  have  artistic  value.  The  works  were  scientific,  not  liter- 
ary. But  our  knowledge  of  them  is  veiy  slight;  and  we  cannot 
give  a  detailed  account.  Yet  there  were  great  names  that  the 
humanists  could  not  pronounce  but  with  respect.* 

Zenodotus  of  Ephesus,  a  pupil  of  the  poet  and  philologist  Phile- 
tas,  was  preceptor  to  the  children  of  Ptolemy  Soter,  and  then  the 
first  librarian  of  Alexandria.  Though  forgotten  as  a  poet,  he  con- 
tinued  to  be  famous  as  a  philologist.  His  edition  of  the  Iliad  and 
the  Odyssey  was  tne  hrst  ot  those  Alexandrian  Stop^wo-cis,  critical 
editions  founded  on  the  comparative  and  methodical  study  of  liter- 
ary sources.  Callimachus  of  Ephesus  seems  to  have  been  the  suc- 
cessor of  Zenodotus  as  librarian ;  but  he  is  more  celebrated  as  a  poet 
than  as  a  philologist.  We  shall  meet  with  him,  accordingly,  in  the 
next  chapter.  But  we  must  mention  here,  among  many  other  schol- 
arly works,  his  immense  publication  in  one  hundred  and  twenty 
books,  Sketches  of  Illustrious  Wi-iters  and  their  Works  (Iltva/cc?  twv 
£v  TraoTj  TratScttt  SuiXafjul/dvTwv  Koi  tSv  avviypaxf/av).  It  was  biographical, 
historical,  and  critical,  and  all  the  works  of  the  library,  classified 
according  to  types  and  order  of  dates,  were  enumerated  and  cata- 
logued in  it.  Besides,  it  contained  a  multitude  of  positive  facts  of 
the  greatest  value.  Eratosthenes  composed  an  important  work  on  the 
Old  Comedy.  Aristophanes  of  Byzantium,  a  pupil  of  Callimachus, 
librarian  at  the  age*of  ylXty-LVvo  (beginnmg  of  the  second  century),  was 
a  grammarian,  lexicographer,  bibliographer,  and  editor  of  texts,  and 
that  with  a  superiority  of  method  and  scholarship  wliich  puts  him  in 
the  first  rank.  In  grammar,  he  formulated  the  theory  of  analogy, 
which  tries  to  explain  rationally  the  variety  of  grammatical  forms. 
In  lexicography,  he  collected  instances  of  the  occurrence  of  words, 
of  proverbs,  and  even  of  the  eccentricities  of  language.  In  bibliog- 
raph}',  he  completed  the  Sketches  of  Callimachus.  As  an  editor,  he 
published  Homer,  Hesiod,  the  principal  lyric,  comic,  and  tragic  poets, 
Plato,  and  other  writers,  with  arguments,  critical  signs  of  every  sort, 
indications  of  metre  and  marks  of  accent,  —  all  designed  to  make 
the  old  texts  clearer  and  preserve  more  certainly  their  proper  read- 
ings. Aristarchus  of  Samothrace,  born  about  215,  lived  till  143, 
and  was  the  disciple  and  successor  of  Aristophanes.  A  grammarian 
also  and  an  upholder  of  the  theory  of  analogy,  he  was  principally  an 
editor  of  texts  and  a  commentator.     Besides  celebrated  editions  of 

^  The  works  of  these  philologists  are  chiefly  known  from  the  notices  of  them 
in  later  scholiasts. 


436  Greek  Literature 

Homer,  Hesiod,  Alcaeus,  Pindar,  and  several  tragedies  of  ^schylus, 
numberless  exegetical  commentaries  were  composed  by  him.  His 
name  became  proverbial  as  that  of  a  critic  of  the  first  order.  The 
scholia  of  later  ages  show  clearly  the  nature  of  his  criticism  on 
Homer  and  Pindar.  They  vrere  those  of  a  prodigiously  erudite  man, 
with  delicate  and  definite  tastes,  and  a  mind  that,  within  limits,  could 
even  be  called  penetrating.  He  was  more  a  humanist  than  a  histo- 
rian, and  was  educated  in  a  rationalism  that,  notwithstanding  his  good 
sense,  made  it  impossible  that  he  should  be  always  satisfactory  in  his 
appreciation  of  things  very  ancient.  The  last  of  the  great  critics  of 
the  time  is  Crates  of  Mallos  in  Cilicia,  a  contemporary  of  Aristarchus, 
and  at  times  his  adversary.  He  was  a  Stoic  philosopher,  whom  his 
very  philosophy  impelled  to  the  study  of  grammar.  Attalus  II  in- 
vited him  to  Pergaraon.  We  know  much  less  of  him  than  of  the 
great  Alexandrians  who  were  his  contemporaries ;  yet  we  know  that 
he  opposed  the  theory  of  analogy,  and  substituted  for  it  that  of 
anomaly  or  irregularity,  of  spontaneous  creation  in  matters  of  lan- 
guage. The  view  was  a  profound  one  and  seems  to  have  dominated 
all  his  criticism.  He  published  commentaries  on  Homer,  Hesiod, 
and  other  poets. 

7.  Technology. — The  theorists  of  art  and  science  were  no  more 
truly  literary  than  the  philologists.  Here  again,  consequently,  brief 
notice  must  suffice. 

Let  us  consider  first  Aristoxenus  of  Tarentum,  a  pupil  of  Aris- 
totle, whom  we  have  already  considered  as  a  biographer,  but  who 
occupied  himself  also  with  the  theory  of  rhythms  and  music.  As  a 
philosopher,  he  composed  scholarly  works  on  legislation,  and  various 
other  treatises.  But  he  is  known  to-day  chiefly  on  account  of  his 
Eleme)its  of  Harmony,  of  which  three  books  are  extant,  and  his 
Elements  of  Rhythm,  of  which  we  have  only  fragments,  though  they 
are  highly  instructive.^  He  had  treated  these  subjects  as  a  true 
disciple  of  Aristotle,  founding  his  theories  upon  direct  analysis  of 
the  facts.  His  style  is  vigorous  and  precise.  His  naturally  severe 
tastes  made  him  a  partisan  of  the  ancients  and  an  opponent  of 
innovation. 

Mathematics  and  physics  had  at  this  time  three  celebrated  repre- 
sentatives. "EtHihd,  who  lived  at  Alexandria  under  Ptolen)y  Soter, 
was  the  author  of  tlie  Elements  of  Geometry  (thirteen  book.s)  to  which 
civilized  humanity  has  still  to  go  to  find  the  principles  of  that  sci- 
ence. It  is  probable,  however,  that  he  was  not  so  much  an  inventor 
as  an  aflinira])le  teacher.     Aristarchus  of  Samos,  a  })upil  of  the  Pcri- 

1  Cf.  Wcstplial.  Arii^inrmos  von  Taretit,  Leipsic,  1883.  The  EleniPnta 
lihytfnnica  are  translated  into  French  by  C.  E.  Kuelle,  Paris,  1870. 


Rhetoric  and  Erudition  after  Alexander         437 

patetic  Strato  of  Lampsacus,  was  the  first  Greek  astronomer  to  hold 
the  profound  view  that  the  earth  turns  around  the  sun,  not  the  sun 
around  the  earth.  ^jgiiiiftMiAs^  born  at  Syracuse  about  287,  and 
slain  in  212  at  the  time  the  city  was  besieged  by  the  Romans,  was 
one  of  the  greatest  scientific  minds  of  antiquity.  Geometer,  engi- 
neer, and  physicist,  in  the  modern  sense  of  the  term,  he  excelled  in 
each  of  these  sciences.  We  have  some  of  his  writings,  that  relate 
chiefly  to  geometry.  We  have  only  a  Latin  translation  of  his 
Treatise  on  Floating  Bodies,  in  which  was  enunciated  and  developed 
the  principle  that  bears  his  name.  Apollonius  of  Perga  in  Pam- 
phylia  was  celebrated,  about  the  same  time,  as  a  geometer  and 
astronomer ;  while  Philo  of  Byzantium  was  famous  as  an  engineer, 
particularly  in  military  engineering. 

In  the  third  century,  medicine  produced  two  remarkable  scholars, 
Hierophilus  of  Chalcedon  and  Erasistratus  of  Elis,  who  became  heads 
of  medical  schools.  The  disciples  of  the  former  were  more  faithful 
to  the  doctrines  of  Hippocrates ;  those  of  the  latter  were  innovators. 
Others,  who  were  called  "  empiricists,"  seem  to  have  been  less  theo- 
retical and  more  concerned  for  traditional  prescriptions.  Yet  all 
studied  anatomy  with  ardor,  sometimes  even  practising  vivisection, 
not  only  of  animals,  but  also,  it  is  said,  of  criminals,  who  were  put 
at  their  disposal  by  the  kings  of  Egypt  and  Syria. 

Let  us  cite  also,  as  belonging  to  a  closely  allied  field,  the  series 
of  studies  which  then  gave  rise  to  so  many  theoretical  or  practical 
works  on  the  natural  sciences,  licpl  6r]pL(j>v,  ®r]puiKd,  AtduKo.,  TcwpyiKa, 
etc.  Most  of  these  have  disappeared  without  leaving  any  trace  of 
themselves  beyond  a  vague  mention  in  some  later  work ;  but  the 
very  fact  of  this  vigorous  production  is  enough  to  characterize  the 
ardently  studious,  laborious  age. 

8.  Soini-rQjpantiic  JJjtc^a^^xrPL-  —  By  an  Unexpected,  though  nat- 
ural, contrast,  this  age  of  scholarship  is  also  one  of  romantic  imag- 
ination. Not  only  is  imagination  often  combined  with  scholarship, 
which  it  destroys  and  compromises  through  its  fondness  for  the  mar- 
vellous and  unusual  —  notably  in  the  description  of  things  in  the 
distance ;  but  there  it  is  active  in  its  proper  sphere,  and  follows  the 
precedent  inaugurated  by  the  Cyropcedia. 

Hecatseus'of  Abdera  (or  of  Teos),  a  contemporary  of  the  first 
Ptolemy,  was  the  author  of  two  works,  On  the  Hyjyerhoreans,  and 
On  Egypt,  in  which,  under  cover  of  history,  he  gave  free  course  to 
the  expression  of  philosophical,  religious,  and  moral  fancies.^ 

Euhemerus  of  Messina,  his  contemporary,  exercised  a  considerable 
influence  by  a  singular  book  entitled  Tlie  Sacred  Inscription  {'Upa 
1  Cf.  C.  Muller,  Fr.  Hist.  Graic.  II,  pp.  384-396. 


438  Greek  Literature 

ivay pat^rj)}  He  was  supposed  to  have  read  the  inscription  on  an 
altar  of  the  city  of  Panara,  the  capital  of  Panchaea.  It  reported 
that  Uranus,  Cronus,  and  Zeus  had  been  kings  of  Panchaea,  and 
became  gods  after  death.  The  author  began  with  this  theme  to 
set  forth  what  has  since  been  called  Euhemerism,  the  theory  accord- 
ing to  which  the  gods  are  apotheosized  men.  The  theory  had  pro- 
digious success,  being  found  in  germ  in  the  earlier  epochs.  But  thus 
presented,  it  became  the  religion  —  or  irreligion  —  of  a  multitude  of 
elite  spirits. 

That  there  was  at  this  time  also  something  like  true  romance  is 
proved  notably  by  the  existence  of  those  Milesian  Tales  in  which 
the  officers  of  the  army  of  Crassus  took  such  delight  during  the 
expedition  against  the  Parthians.^  They  were  attributed  to  a  certain 
Aristides  of  Miletus.  But  of  the  romances  of  this  period  nothing 
has  been  left  behind. 

9.  Jewish-Greek  and  Apocryphal  Literature.  —  In  closing  this  sketch 
of  prose  in  the  first  two  centuries  of  the  Alexandrian  period,  we 
must  note  a  final  interesting  group,  that  of  the  Greek  Jews  at  Alex- 
andria. An  important  Jewish  colony  had  been  established  there  at 
the  time  Avhen  the  city  was  founded.  They  prospered  and  'became 
very  numerous.  Though  retaining  their  traditions,  they  were  slowly 
Hellenized,  and  many  of  them  eventually  spoke  only  Greek.  Hence 
arose,  on  the  one  hand,  Greek  translations  of  their  sacred  books  for 
the  use  of  those  who  no  longer  understood  Hebrew,  and  on  the  other, 
books  written  in  Greek  by  Jews  who  tried  to  teach  their  law  tfluthe 
GeuUl-es.  The  version  of  the  Bible  called  the  /Sfp^MogmfTjelongs  to 
the  former  class  of  works.  We  need  only  mention  It;  for  it  belongs 
to  Greek  literature  neither  in  substance  nor  in  form.  To  the  second 
class  of  Jewish-Greek  works  belong  those  of  Aristobulus,  who  lived 
at  Alexandria  in  the  first  half  of  the  second  century,  and  wrote  in 
Greek  an  Explanation  of  the  Law  of  Moses,  designed  to  prove  to  the 
pagans  the  Jewish  origin  of  their  philosophy.  We  may  mention 
also,  though  without  much  stress,  the  considerable  part  taken  by 
Hellenistic  Jews  in  the  fabrication  of  that  multitude  of  a£0cryphal_ 
works,  the  pseudo-Orpheus,  pseudo-Phocylides,  pseudo-Hecataeus, 
and  the  Sibylline  Books,  which  went  on  multiplying  in  this  period, 
all  having  for  theii-  object  the  task  of  putting  Jewish  ideas  under 
the  patronage  of  the  great  names  of  pagan  literature.  The  Orient 
and  Greece^ touched  and  intermingled  at  Alexandria  more  than 
anywhere  else.  Tiire  Greek  genius  was  altered  thereby;  but  the 
influence  of  the  alloy  on  the  course  of  history  was  to  be  of  such 
importance  that  it  is  worth  while  to  take  careful  note  of  its  origin. 
1  Cf.  XL-inelhy,  Eiihtmeri  lieliqukc,  Buda-restb,  1889.       ^  Plutarch,  Crasstis,  •'•^. 


CHAPTER   XXV 

ALEXANDRIAN   POETRY 

1.  Alexandrianism  in  Poetry  :  General  View.  2.  The  Amorous  Elegy  :  Phile- 
tas  of  Cos  and  his  Associates.  3.  Asclepias  of  Samos  and  the  Epigram ; 
Leonidas  of  Tarentum.  4.  The  Realists :  Sotades,  Rhinthon,  etc.  The 
Mime :  Herondas.  5.  Theocritus  and  the  Idyll.  6.  Imitators  of  Theocritus. 
7.  Academic  Poetry.  8.  Callimachus.  9.  Aratus.  10.  Apollonius  of 
Rhodes.  11.  Lycophron.  12.  The  last  Epic,  Didactic,  and  Elegiac  Poets. 
13.  Continuance  of  the  Epigram  :  Meleager  ;  the  Anthologies. 

1.  Alexandrianism  in  Poetry :  General  View. ^ — We  have  seen,  in 
the  preceding  chapter,  that  after  Alexander,  Greek  literature  ceased 
to  be  national  and  popular,  and  became  cosmopolitan  and  polished ; 
we  have  seen,  also,  what  transformations  resulted  in  prose  literature. 
The  change  was  no  less  profound  in  poetry.  The  exhaustion  of  the 
old  types,  a  different  spirit  in  general,  a  new  public,  and  different 
external  circumstances,  brought  about  new  forms  of  poetry,  new  sub- 
jects, a  new  style.  Matter  and  form,  all  was  changed.  Even  in  the 
city  of  the  fourth  century,  epic  was  merely  a  memory,  lyric  poetry 
was  extinct,  and  tragedy,  distorted  by  rhetoric,  scarcely  lived  save  in 
tradition.  Comedy  alone,  as  we  have  seen,  maintained  a  real  activity. 
After  the  spread  of  Hellenism  through  the  world,  and  the  founding 
of  new  intellectual  centres,  the  earlier  types,  closely  associated  with 
a  body  of  ideas  and  sentiments  which  had  disappeared,  became  still 
more  antiquated  and  remote.  They  no  longer  found  any  response  in 
the  hearts  of  the  people.  The  people  had  ceased  to  be  a  real  public. 
The  poets,  like  the  prose-writers,  addressed  them  no  more.  Every 
piece  of  composition  was  designed  for  the  educated,  for  the  cosmo- 
politan minority  that,  at  Pergamon  and  at  Alexandria,  or  even  at  Cos- 
and  Syracuse,  had  received  the  polite  culture  of  Hellenism,  and  took 
an  interest  in  the  art  of  writing.  These  were  professional  scholars. 
in  princely  courts  of  Greek  origin  and  in  banqueting  halls  of  culture. 
The  intellectual  needs  of  this  peculiar  public  were  no  longer  like 
those  to  which  Pindar  or  Sophocles  ministered.  The  circle  of  men 
of  letters  lived  a  narrow,  artificial  life,  surrounded  with  libraries, 

'  Consult :  on  this  whole  period,  besides  the  work  of  Susemihl  mentioned  in 
the  preceding  chapter,  the  classic  work  of  A.  Couat,  La  Pnesie  alexandrine, 
Paris.  1880. 

4;]9 


440  Chreek  Literature 

official  and  social  festivities,  and  public  lecture  rooms,  amid  rivalries 
and  intrigues,  far  from  the  agora,  far  from  politics  and  war,  far  from 
those  collective  emotions  which  stir  the  hearts  of  the  people.  Under 
such  conditions,  poetry  became  erudite,  bookish,  refined,  and  meagre 
in  passion.  It  gave  the  first  place  to  love,  which,  in  default  of 
public  life,  became  the  mOyi  impurUuit  H^ihlimeiit ;  and  even  this  was 
no  higher  in  guali^  thanjbhe  hearts  ii>  "yy^i^cl^  it  f^p^if^teH.  It  was  g^en- 
erally  sensual.  Though  sometimes  passionate,  it  nearly  always  fell 
into  a  somewhat  insipid,  conventional  gallantry.  Th»~exGe&§_fif  lit- 
erary production,  too,  coustautly  cloyed  tlie  more  natural  sentiments. 
_Tj_wnfiJ.mpofifiibIe  to  fftftl  true  PTnoimn^^imply  ;  and  even  when  thaiT' 
was  expressed,  it  was  tainted  with  literary  vanity,  an  unbearable  dis- 
play of  erudition,  an  assumed  simplicity,  which  is  the  height  of  over- 
refinement.  The  art  of  composition  grew  feeble ;  the  intellect  busied 
itself  with  details,  sought  for  tidbits,  and  no  longer  cared  for,  or  was 
able  to  grasp,  entire  wholes.  ThoA^le,  -c»»-Ute  coatracjivbec ame  the 
object  of  fervent  w.or§hip.  Never  was  the  art  of  chisellinjg  a  sentence 
better  cultivated ;  never  was  more  effort  of  learning  used  in  the 
choice  of  words.  In  the  greatest  Alexandrian  writers,  the  style  is  a 
marvel  of  subtle  cleverness  and  elegance ;  in  the  others,  it  becomes 
labored  and  pedantic.  Because  tradition  prescribed  the  use  of  cer- 
tain dialects  for  certain  types,  or  for  the  expression  of  certain  ideas, 
there  was  a  curious  drain  upon  the  rich  treasure  of  dialects,  sometimes 
with  more  diligence  than  taste,  and  at  the  risk  of  producing  a  disagree- 
able patchwork.  Versification  was  addressed  chiefly  to  readers,  and 
changed  its  character.  Lyric  rhythms  of  everj^  sort  became  rarer ; 
the  simple  hexameter  and  the  elegiac  distich  were  employed  for  all 
purposes,  and  the  art  of  constructing  these  metres  reached  great  per- 
fection. The  most  common  forms  of  composition  were  the  amorous, 
mythological  elegy,  the  mime,  the  satiric  or  the  bucolic  poem,  the  epi- 
gram, and  the  official  and  social  hymn  in  hexameter  or  elegiac  verse. 
These  forms  were  almost  limited  to  a  certain  length;  the  smallness 
of  the  frame  was  in  harmony  with  the  nature  of  the  inspiration ;  and 
both  were  an  indication  of  the  taste.  Even  then  there  were  partisans 
of  epic.  This  form  of  composition  was  the  subject  of  a  great  literary 
quarrel,  though  the  Alexandrian  epic,  in  general,  did  not  resemble 
the  Homeric  in  its  dimensions  any  more  than  in  its  nature.  The 
number  of  poets  was  considerable.  Every  one  could  write  verse,  and 
many  did  it  with  some  skill.  It  is  difficult  to  classify  satisfactorily 
even  the  more  important  writers,  owing  to  the  diversity  of  types 
and  to  numerous  chronological  uncertainties.  "We  shall  study  the 
appearance  of  the  types  in  the  beginning  or  middle  of  the  third  cen- 
tury as  clri.sely  as  possible  in  the  order  of  time  ;  then,  type  by  type, 


Alexandrian  Poetry  441 

the  most  interesting  writers  among  those  who  devoted  themselves 
to  it. 

2.  The  Amorous  Elegy:  Philetas  of  Cos  and  his  Associates.  —  The  Cc^-t^^,.^ 
first  in  date  of  the  Alexandi-iaiTpoyLB,  and  one  of  the  founders  of  the       ,^y' 
new  art,  was  Philetas,  born  at  Cos  about  340,  a  grammarian  and  ,^  / 
poet,  and  the  teacher  of  Philadelphus.     After  a  residence  of  some       ""^^^ 
years  at  Alexandria,  he  seems  to  have  finished  his  career  in  his  na- 
tive island,  surrounded  by  a  group  of  friends  and  disciples,  most  of 
whom  were  destined  to  become  celebrated  in  turn.^     His  fame  was 
great.   Besides  some  erudite  works  in  prose,  he  composed  a  collection  V-/./ 
of  light,  amorous  elegies,  probably  comprising  epigrams  for  the  most 
part,  in  which  he  sang  of  Bittis ;  another  collection  entitled  Telephus,  ''^ 

from  the  name  of  his  father ;  and  two  longer  poems,  one,  in  elegiac  ^^ 

verse,  entitled  Demeter,  and  the  other,  in  hexameters,  entitled  Hennes.  . 
We  have  scarcely  fifty  verses  of  his  works.     Some  of  them  evinces'  ^^t^'* 
delicate  talent  and  amiable  judgment. 

For  example,  note  these  on  the  death  of  a  friend :  —  ^(  t. 

"  I  mourn  not  for  thee,  dearest  of  my  friends :  thou  hast  known 
the  joys  of  life  in  large  measure,  though  the  gods  have  given  thee, 
too,  thy  share  of  ills." 

But  it  is  chiefly  by  the  eulogies  of  his  successors  that  the  impor- 
tance of  his  role  is  attested,  Theocritus  recognized  him  as  a  master,^ 
and  the  Roman  Propertius  invoked  him  as  one  of  the  demigods  of 
elegiac  poetry.^  In  fact,  he  appears  to  have  opened  several  new  paths 
in  which,  after  his  death,  Alexandrian  poetry  was  to  walk.  His 
Hermes  and  his  Demeter  were  doubtless  familiar,  romantic  epics,  fore- 
running the  Ilecale  of  Calliniaclius.  His  epigrams  broke  the  path  for 
Asclepias  of  Samos.  His  elegies,  by  a  mixture  of  love  confessions 
with  mythology,  transformed  the  traditional  elegy,  and  adapted  it 
to  the  taste  of  the  day. 

The  amorous,  mythological  elegy,  thus  essentially  defined  at  the 
beginning,  was  marvellously  suited  to  the  spirit  of  the  times,  and 
immediately  adopted  by  numerous  poets.  The  principal  ones  were 
Hermesianax  of  Colophon,  Phanocles,  and  Alexander  of  ^tolia. 
Hermesianax,  a  pupil  of  Philetas,  composed  an  epic  poem  entitled 
UtpatKa,  of  which  we  know  almost  nothing  ;  and  three  books  of  ele- 
gies entitled  Leontinm,  from  the  name  of  his  mistress.  A  long  frag- 
ment of  the  third  book  reveals  fairly  well  his  erudite,  frivolous  man- 
ner. The  theme  of  the  passage  is  that  all  poets  are  amorous.  It  is 
demonstrated  with  a  pedantic,  interminable  enumeration  of  the  most 

1  Fragments  in  .Jacobs,  Anthologij,  I.  p.  121  ff.  ^  Theocr.  VII,  40. 

3  i'ropertius,  IV,  1  ;   Calliuiachi  manes  et  Coi  sacra  I'hilete. 


442  Greek  Literature 

celebrated  amours  attributed  to  poets,  though  without  any  criticism, 
and  in  a  language  rather  labored  than  elegant.  Phanocles  composed, 
about  the  same  time,  an  elegiac  poem  entitled  Amours,  or  the  Beauti- 
ful Youths  (*Epo>Tcs  ri  KoXoi).  He  also  recounted  antique  legends.  A 
fragment  of  twenty-eight  verses  on  the  death  of  Orpheus  shows  the 
same  fondness  for  superficial  erudition,  joined  with  a  melancholy 
grace.  Alexander  of  iEtolia  was  probably  a  disciple  of  Philetas. 
As  a  grammarian  and  poet,  he  was  attached  to  the  library  at  Alexan- 
dria, where  he  gathered  together  and  classified  the  tragic  poets.  He 
composed  some  tragedies  and  various  little  known  poems,  also  two 
collections  of  elegies  entitled  Apollo  and  Tlie  Muses.  A  fragment  of 
the  Apollo  is  a  prophecy  in  which  the  god  foretells  the  tragic  amours 
of  Antheus  with  the  wife  of  Phobius.  It  is  the  work  of  a  skilful, 
interesting  versifier  rather  than  of  an  inspired  poet. 

On  the  whole,  all  these  poets  resemble  each  other  in  being  ingen- 
ious and  rather  frivolous  versifiers,  in  whom  love  is  only  a  pretext 
for  the  display  of  mythological  lore.  It  does  not  appear  that  the 
Alexandrian  elegy  produced  any  really  superior  poet,  one  who  could 
bring  out,  in  this  rather  unnatural  type,  the  elements  of  beauty 
which,  perhaps,  were  contained  in  it,  but  could  be  disclosed  only  by 
the  hand  of  genius.^ 

3.  Asclepias  of  Samos  and  the  Epigram  ;  Leonidas  of  Tarentum.  —  By 
the  side  of  Thiletas  and  above  the  poets^usl  ifailred  ranks  Asclepias 
of  Samos,  their  contemporary.'  He  wrote  works  of  different  sorts, 
notably  lyric  poems,  which  were  probably  love  songs  imitated  from 
the  poets  of  Lesbos.  The  Asclepiad  derives  its  name  from  him.  He 
did  not  invent  it,  however,  for  it  is  found  already  among  the  Lesbi- 
ans. But  he  no  doubt  renewed  and  reinvigorated  it.  His  lyric  poems 
are  lost ;  and  it  is  chiefly  as  the  author  of  epigrams  that  he  was  cele- 
brated during  his  lifetime  and  that  we  can  still  appreciate  him.  His 
fame  was  not  undeserved.  The  eighteen  epigrams  preserved  under 
his  name  in  the  Palatine  Anthology,  of  which  only  two  or  three  are 
doubtful,  reveal  him  to  us  sufficiently.  ^Nlost  of  them  are  charming 
confidences,  in  which  the  poet  tells  us  of  his  amorous  suffering  and 
tlie  graces  of  liis  loved  one,  in  the  manner  of  those  poets  who  are 
read  and  re-read.  Mythology  has  little  place.  The  sketches  of  lit- 
erary personages  have  grace  and  novelty.  What  chiefly  constitutes 
their  original  merit  is  the  ingeniousness  of  their  turn,  the  vivid  ele- 
gance of  their  imagery,  the  delicacy  of  their  style,  and  the  scrupulous 
neatness  of  their  rhythm  and  versification.  The  ancient  epigram- 
matists, and  even  Simonides,  had  more   artlessness  and  easy  grace 

1  Cf.  F.  Plessis.  ^tudps  sur  Properce,  Paris,  1884,  p.  26-3  ff. 

2  Fragments  in  .Jacobs,  Anthology.  I,  p.  144  S. 


Alexandrian  Poetry  443 

at  times,  yet  with  more  grandeur.  Asclepias  is  a  subtle  writer.  His 
art,  though  of  exquisite  elegance,  is  rather  too  detailed,  yet  un- 
doubtedly furnished  useful  models  to  Theocritus.  Here  is  an  epi- 
gram in  imitation  of  Alca^us  and  Theognis,  but  with  traces  of  really 
personal  impressions ;  a  translation,  however,  cannot  give  the  elegance 
of  its  turn  and  its  expression :  — 

''  Drink,  Asclepias  !  Why  these  tears  ?  What  misfortune  has 
befallen  thee  ?  Thou  art  not  the  only  one  whom  harsh  Cypris  has 
made  her  prey,  whom  the  arrows  of  cruel  Eros  have  smitten.  Why 
bury  thyself  alive  in  the  dust  ?  Let  us  drink  the  pure  wine  of 
Bacchus  :  the  morning  is  beginning  to  break.  If  the  lamp  has  gone 
out,  wouldst  thou  wait  until  it  burns  again  ?  Let  us  drink  gayly. 
A  few  days  yet,  poor  man,  and  we  shall  have  the  long  night  for 
rest."  1 

Simmias,  Posidippus,  and  Hedylus,  of  whom,  likewise,  the 
Anthology  has  preserved  a  few  fragments,  are  contemporary  with 
Asclepias,  or  come  immediately  after  him ;  but  they  are  mere  poets 
with  an  amiable  disposition.  A  few  women  also  wrote  epigrams. 
One  from  the  Peloponnesus,  Anyte  of  Tegea,  has  left  a  few  charm- 
ing poems,  chiefly  epigrams.^  Leonidas  of  Tarentum  is,  however, 
more  than  simply  an  agreeable  poet.^  A  contemporary  of  Theocritus, 
perhaps  slightly  younger,  he  led  a  wandering  life  in  poverty.  He  con- 
soled himself  for  his  miseries  by  writing  epigrams  and  thinking  of 
his  future  renown.  His  confidence  was  not  misplaced  ;  the  Muses, 
in  fact,  as  he  said,  loved  him.  We  have  under  his  name  about  a 
hundred  epigrams  belonging  to  all  the  types  then  cultivated :  epitaphs, 
inscriptions  for  offerings,  inscriptions  for  statues,  sketches  of  poets 
and  artists,  and  bits  of  philosophical  or  moral  reflection.  Many  were 
composed  for  fishers  or  spinsters,  for  humble  persons  whom  the  poor 
poet  visited,  for  those  who  offered  ex-votos  to  some  god,  or  those 
who  had  just  died.  Hence  he  has  a  pleasing  realism,  precise  tech- 
nical terms,  professional  words,  and  the  whole  relieved  by  chaste 
emotion.  He  extols  witli  charm  the  sweetness  of  an  existence  amid 
poverty  and  labor,  the  grace  of  spring,  the  freshness  of  a  fountain, 
and  even,  once  when  he  took  his  inspiration  from  Simonides,  the 
pettiness  of  man's  life  as  a  whole,  a  fleeting  moment  of  time  between 
two  infinities  :  — 

"An  immense  epoch  passed,  0  man,  before  thou  earnest  to  the 
light,  and  an  immense  one  shall  jiass  again  when  thou  hast  gone  to 
Hades.  What  is  the  imjwrtance  of  thy  life  ?  A  ])oint  of  time,  or 
even  less.  And  that  is  hard;  for,  far  from  being  sweet,  it  is  more 
irksome  and  odious  than  death.     Abandon,  then,  thy  stormy  life, 

1  Jacobs,  Anthology,  I,  p.  145.  "-  Ibid.,  p.  LSO  ff. 

3  Ibid.,  p.  15.3  ff. 


444  Greek  Literature 

and  flee  toward  the  port  of  Hades,  as  I  —  I,  Phido,  the  son  of  Critus 
—  have  done."  ^ 

4.   The  Realists :  Sotades,  Rhinthon,  etc.    The  Mime  :  Herondas.  — 

The  subtlety  of  fine  spirits  often  has  for  its  counterpart  in  literature 
a  strong  fondness  for  realism  and  even  for  coarseness.  This  was 
made  manifest  in  the  Alexandrian  period. 

We  have  already  spoken  of  the  SiUoi  of  Timon  and  the  poems 
of  Menippus,  which,  notwithstanding  their  more  or  less  philosophical 
character,  are  products  of  just  such  a  taste. 

The  gross  and  obscene  satire  of  Sotades  is  another  example. 
Sotades,  born  at  Maronea  in  Crete,  was  contemporary  with  the  first 
Ptolemies.  He  composed,  for  reading  only,  a  few  satiric  songs  in 
a  metre  afterward  called  Sotadean.  It  is  made  up  of  ionic  feet. 
He  seems  to  have  been  talented,  but  the  little  that  remains  of  his 
works  is  too  coarse  for  translation.  One  of  his  songs,  attacking 
Philadelphus,  was  the  cause  of  his  death.  The  king  of  Egypt  had 
him  seized  by  one  of  his  admirals  and  thrown  into  the  sea,  sewed  up 
in  a  sack. 

At  the  same  time,  Rhinthon  of  Tarentum,  the  son  of  a  potter, 
introduced  into  literature  the  droll  satire  popular  among  his  country- 
men of  jMagna  Grsecia.  Athenaeus,  in  an  interesting  passage,'^  enumer- 
ates all  the  types  of  farce  in  which  the  imagination  of  these  lively, 
gay  people  sought  expression.  Rhinthon  drew  thence  his  inspi- 
ration. In  his  "  hilaro-tragedies "  entitled  Heracles,  Aniphitryo, 
Iphigenia,  etc.,  the  heroes  of  classic  tragedy  became  personages  of 
operetta.  He  had  some  success,  but  his  works  have  almost  wholly 
perished. 

The  mime,  which,  since  the  fifth  century,  had  been  so  popular 
at  Syracuse,  owing  to  Sophron  and  Xenarchus,  now  took  on  new 
life  under  the  influence  of  this  realistic  spirit.  Perhaps  to  this  type 
of  mime  must  be  assigned  an  interesting  fragment  recently  found  on 
an  Egyptian  papyrus  which  contains  the  lament  of  a  woman  forsaken 
by  her  lover.^  It  is  a  monologue  composed  in  the  common  dialect, 
probably  in  rhythmic  prose,  and  dramatic  only  in  assuming  a 
change  of  place.  The  lady  slowly  approached  her  lover's  door,  and 
perhaps  at  last  made  him  hear  her  lament.  The  passage  is  interest- 
ing. The  seven  mimes  of  Herondas,  also  recently  discovered,  are 
a  much  more  important  literary  monument.*    Herondas  (or  Herodas), 

^  Anthol  Pal.  VII,  472  ;  .Jacobs,  I.  p.  172.  2  Athenfeus,  XIV,  620  D  ff. 

^  Cf.  II.  Weil,  lih-uc  dfs  J'ytudfs  (/rcrques.  18W5.  p.  KiO. 

^  Kflitio  I'rinceps  by  Kenyoii,  London,  1891  ;  editions  by  Crusius,  Teubner, 
1892  :  bv  Biiclieier,  Bonn,  18i)2,  with  Latin  translation.  Frencli  translation  by 
Dahiioyda,  Ilachette.  189.3;  and  by  Ristelhuber,  Delagrave,  1893.  English 
tran.slation  by  J.  A.  Symonds  in  his  Studies  of  Che  Greek  Poets. 


Alexandrian  Poetry  445 

born  possibly  at  Syracuse,  is  contemporary  with  the  first  Ptolemies. 
He  wrote  choliambic  verse  in  the  Ionic  dialect.  The  choliambic  verse 
or  "  halting  "  iambic,  also  called  scazon,  had  fallen  into  disuse  after 
Hipponax  of  Ephesus.  Herondas  chose  it  as  an  erudite  artist ;  there 
was  excellent  concord  between  the  nature  of  the  metre  and  the 
realism  of  his  inspiration.  The  choice  of  the  dialect  resulted 
naturally  from  the  Ionic  origin  of  the  metre.  From  Herondas  we 
know  completely  the  nature  of  a  Greek  mime.  It  was  a  short 
dramatic  scene  designed  for  reading,  in  which  two  or  three  persons 
at  most  chat  familiarly.  The  personages  of  Herondas  are  humble 
burghers,  a  slave-merchant,  a  schoolmaster,  a  fashionable  shoemaker, 
etc.  The  poet  shows  them  to  us  in  the  pursuit  of  their  ordinary 
occupations.  It  is  an  hour  of  their  life  that  he  puts  before  us,  with 
its  commonplace  concerns,  its  amusements,  its  petty  passions,  its 
familiar  gossip.  His  realism  chose  for  its  field  of  observation  the 
whole  life  of  the  middle  classes.  He  does  not  put  into  his  pictures 
either  satiric  bitterness  or  amiability ;  he  is  sober,  impersonal,  and 
true.  He  neither  seeks  nor  avoids  coarseness ;  sometimes  he  meets  it 
on  the  way  and  hastily  notes  it,  yet  without  emphasis.  The  humanity 
he  depicts  is,  in  its  essential  elements,  that  of  all  times;  but  it  is 
principally  characterized,  in  a  manner  very  peculiar  and  amusing,  by 
the  form  which  these  elements  take  at  a  certain  date  and  under  a 
certain  environment,  the  Greek  Alexandrian  environment  of  the 
third  century.  In  brief,  he  is  a  very  agreeable  writer,  not  much  of 
a  poet,  though  he  wrote  in  verse,  and  a  true,  keen  observer. 

5.  Theocritus  and  the  Idyll.  —  Pure  poetry  is  a^^sociated  with 
realism  in  the'Wrjrks  of  Theocritus,  the  cteatjQi.  and  master  of  the 
idyD,  the  greatest  poet  of  this_^enod,  and  the  only  one  who,  in  cer- 
tain respects,  is  still  classic.^ 

He  wa^born  jgrobably^jt^jra^  in  the  last  years  of  the  fourth 
century.  Part  of  his  youth  was  passed  at  Cos,  where  he  knew 
Philetas  and  his  circle,  Asclepias  of  Samos,  Aratus,  and  the  physi- 
cian Nicias  of  Miletus.     He  certainly  resided  also  in  Magna  Graecia. 

1  BiHLiOGRAPHY :  Eclitioiis  by  Reiske,  Vienna,  1765;  Ileindorf,  BucoUci 
Grccci,  2  vols.,  Berlin,  1810;  Ameis,  in  the  BucoUci  Grceci  of  the  Didot  Collec- 
tion, Paris,  1846  ;  Fritsche-Hiller,  3d  ed.,  Lcip.sic,  1881,  with  a  scholarly  com- 
mentary ;  Ahrens,  Teubner,  1855,  sometimes  overbold  and  arbitrary  ;  L.  Renier, 
Paris,  Ilachette,  1894,  with  a  translation  into  French  ;  Snow,  Oxford,  1885  ; 
Wordsworth,  Cambridge,  1877;  Meineke,  3d  ed.,  Berlin,  1856;  Ziegler,  Tii- 
bingen,  1879. 

French  translation  by  Leconte  de  Lisle,  Paris,  1869  (with  Ilesiod)  ;  and  by 
J.  Girard.  Paris,  1888.  English  translatiim  by  A.  Lang.  London,  1889  (with 
Bion  and  Moschns)  ;  and  in  verse  by  C.  S.  Calverley,  Cambridge,  1869. 

Articles  by  Sainte-Beuve,  Portraits  litteraires,  vol.  Ill;  and  by  J.  Girard, 
Etudes  sur  la  poesie  ffrccjue,  Paris,  1884.  Consult  particularly,  in  addition  to 
the  chapter  by  Couat,  the  important  work  of  E.  I>egrand,  Etude  sur  Theocrite, 
Paris,  1898;  Gebauer,  De  Thcocriti  Carminibus,  Leipsic,  Mendelssohn,  18(31. 


446  Greek  Literature 

A  little  before  270  he  addressed  to  liiero  of  Syracuse  a  sort  of 
epistle  {Idyll  XVI)  asking  his  protection,  ifpt  having  succeeded 
in  persuading  Hiero,  he  turned  to  rhiladelphxu^-  -w^ho  probably 
received  him  with  greater  favor ;  for  some  of  his  poems  appear  to 
have  been  composed  at  Alexandria.  Neither  the  date  of  his  birth 
nor  that  of  his  death  are  known. 

We  have  under  his  name,  besides  some  epigrams,  thirty  poems 
called  IdyUs  {dhvXkuC).  The  word  eiSvXXtov,  which  does  not  go 
back  to  Theocritus  himself,  signifies  simply  a  short  poem.^  As 
"  bucolic  "  poems  predominate  in  the  collection,  the  term  "  idyll " 
has  taken  on,  among  modern  peoples,  the  sense  of  pastoral  poem ;  - 
"but  this  meaning  is  not  applicable  to  all  his  compositions.  Of  the 
thirty  idylls  attributed  to  him,  five  are^apocryphal  (XIX,  XX,  XXI, 
^J^III,  anid2^XyiI].  The  other  twenty-five,  notwithstanding  their 
common  title,  differ  much  from  one  another.  They  include  love 
songs,  mimes  in  the  style  of  Herondas,  rustic  poems  more  or  less 
resembling  the  mime  or  the  song,  epic  lays,  hymns,  and  one  epistle. 
They  resemble  each  other  in  brevity  and  in  the  predominance  of 
hexameter.  The  double  character  is  worthy  of  attention ;  for  the 
brevity  of  the  little  poems  is  perfectly  adapted  to  the  nature  of  their 
inspiration,  their  exquisite  art,  elegant  in  its  finish,  carefully  and 
skilfully  polished,  in  which  even  boldness  and  aptitude  accompany 
fine  precision.  The  general  employment  of  hexameter  well  signifies 
that  the  poems  are  all  composed  for  readers,  and  that  difference  of 
metres  would  not  be  in  taste,  as  there  would  be  no  corresponding 
difference  in  the  mode  of  execution.  All  the  poems  reflect  liis  genius 
in  their  substance  —  a  genius  thoroughly  personal  and  original. 

More  than  any  one  else  among'^fhany  Tllfin  ot  letters  who  were 
his  contemporaries,  he  possessed  two  distinguishing  qualities :  a 
strong,  sympathetic  sensibility,  and  the  dramatic  gift  of  creating 
vivid  personages.  Polishe.d.  culture  has  not  .stifled  his  sensibility, 
as  in  the  case  of  so  many  others ;  the  natural  man  survived  in  the 
man  of  letters.  He  sees  not  merely  the  external  world  —  and  no  one 
has  a  more  clear,  plastic,  many-colored  view  than  he;  but  he  enjoys 
it  with  all  his  powers  of  sense.  Tlie  newly  fashioned  bowl  is  still 
a  produf;t  of  clay  for  hiin,  the  fleece  of  Lycidas  still  retains  its  odor, 
the  i)erfnmes  of  autumn  float  about  the  feast  of  the  Thalysiaj.  The 
fresh  sweetness  of  shade  and  water,  the  softness  of  a  bed  thick  with 
dried  herbs,  are  vividly  felt  and  described.     He  hears  the  murmur 

1  It  is  the  diminutive  of  elSos,  which,  in  Alexandrian  parlance,  meant  a 
"poem."  Ordinarily,  the  word  €l5v\\iov  is  translated,  though  very  inexactly, 
by  '•  picturette." 

2  The  word  '■  ecloque,"  which  properly  signifies  only  a  "  select  "  extract,  has 
had  the  same  alteration  of  meaning  and  for  the  same  reason. 


Alexandrian  Poetry  447 

of  the  brook  and  the  chirping  of  the  crickets.  He  is  capable  of  true 
passion  and  strong  love.  In  him  one  "feels  the  wan/'  as  Martial 
said,  liominem  jxighia  nostra  sapit.  He  lias  also  a  dramatic  gift; 
this  person  of  lively  sensibilities  knows  how  to  go  beyond  himself. 
The  beings  he  imagines  and  represents  are  not  for  him  vain  phan- 
toms :  they  live  their  own  life,  in  an  environment  with  which  they 
are  in  harmony ;  and  he  pictures  before  us  the  whole  situation  with 
strokes  that  make  it  realistic. 

Among  the  idylls,  some  have  emotion  and  lyric  sensibility  almost 
exclusively,  or  at  least  in  great  predominance.  Such  are  the  love 
songs  proper  (XII,  XXVIII,  XXIX,  XXX),  a  few  songs  which  are 
yet  scarcely  more  than  chants  of  love  in  the  mouths  of  fictitious  per- 
sonages (the  magician,  II ;  the  lover  of  Amaryllis,  III ;  the  Cyclops, 
XI),  and  finally  the  Epithalamium  of  Helen  (XVIII).  The  magician 
is  a  young  girl  who  seeks  in  magic  a  means  of  bringing  back  her 
lover.  A  look  sufficed  to  throw  her  into  a  delirium ;  then  she  was 
consumed  and  withered  away.  In  a  monologue  broken  with  refrains, 
she  pursues,  with  her  maid-servant,  her  magic  incantations ;  then, 
alone  in  the  light  of  the  moon,  she  recounts  the  rise  of  her  love  and 
her  fierce  torments.  The  whole  poem  burns  with  passion.  Theoc- 
ritus, while  imitating  Sappho,  in  turn  inspired  the  Medea  of  Apol- 
lonius  and  the  Dido  of  Vergil :  — 

"  Lo !  how  quiet  are  the  sea  and  the  winds.  But  in  my  breast, 
my  sorrow  is  not  quiet.  For  I  am  all  aflame  with  yearning  for  that 
man,  who  has  made  me,  poor  woman,  not  his  wife,  but  a  base,  lost 
creature."  ^ 

Polyphemus  also,  the  Cyclops,  is  dying  of  love.  Seated  beside 
the  sea  on  a  rock,  his  heart  longs  for  Galatea,  who  eludes  him  ;  and 
he  breathes  his  longing  in  a  series  of  passionate,  desolate  couplets. 
His  love,  like  that  of  the  magician,  is  simple  and  strong.  It  is  none 
of  those  diminutive  sentiments  that  amuses  itself  giving  presents 
of  "  apples,  roses,  locks  of  hair  "  ;  ^  it  is  ''  madness,"  a  fever,  which 
must  be  assuaged  by  appropriate  remedies,  and  chiefly  by  the  most 
efficacious  of  all,  the  plaint  of  sorrow.^ 

In  addition  to  representing  these  burning  passions,  he  shows  an 
objective  dramatic  gift  in  all  its  impersonal  clearness.  The  idyll  of 
the  she})herds  {Battns  and  Cori/don,  TV),  and  that  of  ThijoiinivJnin,  or 
the  Lace  of  Cj/nisca  (XLV),  are  mimes  as  vivid  and  real  as  those 
of  Herondas,  with  the  merit  of  grace  besides.  Love,  it  is  true,  is 
not  absent,  it  is  his  proper  element ;  but  here  it  does  not  have  first 
place.     The  idyll  of  the  shepherds  is  exquisite,  with  its  capricious, 

1 II,  ;18-41.  2  XI.  10-11.  »  XI.  1-4. 


448  Greek  Literature 

light  gossip,  resting  now  on  this,  now  on  that,  object :  the  departure 
of  Milo,  the  good  cowherd,  who  regrets  his  lost  heifers ;  the  lament- 
able aspect  of  the  herd  without  its  master ;  the  musical  avocations 
of  the  two  herdsmen;  the  sketch  of  Amaryllis;  the  petty  incidents 
of  pastoral  life  —  a  goat  running  away,  a  goat's  foot  wounded  by  a 
thorn ;  and,  at  the  last,  a  few  pungent  words  about  the  future.  The 
idyll  of  Thyonnichus  has  for  its  scene  a  small  wine-shop  in  the  city, 
where  ^schines  relates  to  his  friend  his  amorous  mortifications  and 
is  advised  to  become  a  soldier ;  in  the  service  of  Ptolemy,  he  will 
forget  the  unfaithfulness.  The  two  persons  are  sketched  with  a 
sure  and  clever  stroke. 

The  prettiest  idylls  are  those  in  which  he  has  found  the  secret 
of  fusing  into  a  harmonious  whole  the  lyric  and  di'amatic  qualities 
that  existed  side  by  side  in  his  nature.  The  scene,  as  in  the  preced- 
ing poems,  is  now  in  the  city,  and  now  in  the  fields,  and  the  setting 
may  be  dramatic,  or  narrative,  or  both.  In  the  rustic  idylls  of  the 
group,  the  lyric  centre  is  formed  by  a  "  bucoliasm,"  or  musical  and 
poetic  strife  between  two  shepherds.  Such  alternating  lyric  chants 
were  really  used  by  the  shepherds  of  Sicily  and  Magna  Graecia. 
/  Traces  of  the  custom  are  still  found.  They  whiled  away  their  leisure 
I  hours,  playing  on  the  reed,  repeating  popular  songs,  and  improvising ; 
\  and  they  loved  to  challenge  each  other  in  their  sport.  Theocritus 
shad  seen  such  poetic  tourneys  in  the  country  where  part  of  his  life 
was  passed.  Like  the  great  poets  of  the  classic  period,  who  drew 
from  popular  sources  the  elements  of  their  inspiration,  he  raised  the 
pastoral  poem  to  the  dignity  of  a  literary  type.  About  this  "  bucoli- 
asm "  the  mime  was  developed  and  prolonged  in  conversations. 
Such  is  also  the  structure  of  the  Syracusan  Women  (XV),  of  which 
the  scene  is  at  Alexandria.  In  this  the  accounts  given  by  two 
mothers  during  their  promenade  through  the  city  are  grouped  about 
a  lyric  chant  in  honor  of  Adonis.  On  this  flexible  yet  strong  frame, 
the  author  weaves  an  admirable  poetry,  and  a  whole  essay  on  the 
conception  of  life.  The  rustic  idylls,  in  particular,  are  the  latest 
and  most  celebrated  part  of  his  work,  and  that  by  which  he  has 
exercised  the  greatest  influence  over  posterity. 

The  main  feature  is  a  pretty  dream  of  rustic  life.  Such  a  dream 
is  frequently  found  in  highly  civilized  epochs.  He  gave  a  great  poet's 
sketch  of  it,  with  a  picturesque  element  of  realism  and  lucid  grace 
that  adds  a  wholly  original  accent  to  his  conception  of  nature  and 
his  portrayal  of  the  men  that  live  surrounded  by  it. 

Nature  is  not  for  him  the  stern  stepmother  described  by  Hesiod. 
She  no  longer  presents  the  great  melancholy  or  tragic  aspects  in 
which,  sometimes,  even  the  genius  of  Vergil  took  delight.    Theocritus 


Alexandrian  Poetry  449 

* 

scarcely  beholds  it  PYPPpf,  in  tha  uniformly  finfi  wpfl^>iqr  Of  SPP^ffr 
in  the  mountain  where  the  herds  are  pasturing,  in  the  harvested 
plain,  in  the  grove  made  balmy  by  all  the  fruits  of  the  season, 
beneath  the  brilliant  sun  of  Sicily,  with  the  blue  line  of  the  water 
on  the  horizon.  Never  has  a  juster,  stronger  love  for  the  riches  of 
autumn  found  expression  than  in  the  picture  closing  the  TJialysioe :  ^  — 

"  Lycidas,  with  a  gracious  smile,  gave  me,  in  the  name  of  the 
Muses,  his  crook  as  a  pledge  of  friendship.  Then  he  turned  to  the 
left  and  followed  the  road  toward  Pyxae.  Eucritus  and  I,  with 
the  handsome  Amyntas,  reached  the  home  of  Phrasidamus,  where 
we  lay  down  on  beds  thick  with  odorous  rushes  and  new-cut  vine- 
twigs.  Numerous  poplars  and  elms  formed  a  canopy  above  our 
heads ;  and  near  us,  a  sacred  streamlet  flowed,  murmuring,  from  the 
cave  of  the  nymphs.  In  the  leafy  branches,  cicadas,  browned  by 
the  sun,  sang  till  they  were  weary ;  the  green  frog  piped  in  the  dis- 
tance, beneath  clusters  of  acanthus.  Larks  and  goldfinches  were 
trilling  away  ;  the  turtle-dove  cooed ;  and  tawny  bees  hummed  round 
the  fountains.  Prom  every  side  came  the  rich  odor  of  a  summer 
that  was  passing  into  autumn.  At  our  feet,  and  beside  us,  rolled 
pears  and  apples;  while  branches  loaded  with  plums  bent  to  the 
ground.  The  pitch  of  four  summers  ago  was  being  removed  from 
the  mouth  of  the  amphora. 

"  O  Nymphs  of  Castalia,  who  dwell  on  the  summit  of  Parnassus, 
did  Chiron  of  old  offer  Heracles  such  a  bowl  in  the  rocky  cavern  of 
Pholos  ?  Did  such  a  nectar  intoxicate  the  shepherd  of  Anapos, 
mighty  Polyphemus,  who  hurled  mountains  at  the  ships  ?  such  a 
nectar  make  him  go  reeling  through  the  sheepfolds,  0  Nymphs,  as 
this  which  ye  give  us  at  the  altar  of  Demeter,  protectress  of  the 
harvest  ?  0  that  I  still  might  fan  the  chaff  from  my  grain,  while 
she,  laughing,  has  her  hands  full  of  sheaves  and  poppies  ! " 

In  this  beautiful   and   clement  atmosphere,  Theocritus  depicts 
rather  shepherds  than  harvesters  or  peasants.    Thus  the  shepherd  has 
become  the  traditional  personage  for  eclogue  rather  than  the  laborer. 
For  the  shepherd's  life  is  less  strenuously  toilsome  in  appearance, 
more  dreamlike,  participating  more  in  the  grand  aspects  of  nature, 
passed  more  among  the  flocks,  beings  of  instinct  that  are  the  very 
opposite  of  civilization,  and  always  looked  upon  by  Theocritus  with 
a  friendly  eye.     "What  lie  loved  above  all,  in  the  character  of  the 
shepherds,  was  their  artlessness,  the  simplicity  of  their  ideas  and 
sentiments,  everything  that  kept  them  aloof  from  the  savants  of  Cos 
and  Alexandria.    They  are  not  shepherds  beribboned  and  perfumed ;    "/ 
but  are  dressed  in  ill-prepared  hides,  and  old  clothes  held  in  place    '^ 
by  plaits  of  rushes.^     They  have  flat  noses  and  bushy  hair,^  and     i 
the  odor  of  their  sheep  and  goats.''     They  speak  in  proverbs  and  are 
superstitious.     If  they  sing  of  love,  it  is  with  a  savor  of  artlessness ; 

1  VII,  128-167.        2  VII,  15-18.        »  III,  8  ;  XIV,  3.        *  V,  50  ;  VII,  16. 
2o 


450  Greek  Literature 

% 

and  the  skill  of  the  great  poet  consists  chiefly  in  being  simple  in 
the  representation :  — 

"  Muses  of  Pieria,  sing  with  me  of  a  delicate  maiden ;  for  all 
that  ye  touch,  0  goddesses,  ye  make  beautiful. 

"  Gracious  Bombyca,  all  think  thee  a  Syrian  woman,  spare  and 
brown  with  the  sun :  I,  I  alone,  I  call  thee  blond  as  honey. 

"  The  violet,  too,  is  dark,  and  the  hyacinth  is  wrinkled ;  yet  for 
crowns,  these  flowers  are  gathered  first. 

*'  The  goat  runs  to  nip  the  clover,  the  wolf  pursues  the  sheep,  the 
crane  follows  the  plough ;  but  I,  I  am  eager  with  love  of  thee. 

" '  Would  I  were  rich  as  Croesus,'  men  say ;  but  even  our  statues, 
though  made  of  gold,  are  adorned  for  Aphrodite. 

"  Thou  with  thy  flutes  and  a  rose  or  an  apple ;  I  with  a  suit  of 
new  clothes  and  new  sandals  of  Amyclae. 

"  Gracious  Bombyca,  thy  feet  are  knuckle-bones ;  thy  voice,  a 
nightshade ;  thy  mien  —  I  cannot  say."  ^ 

Xo  doubt  there  is  much  fervor  in  this  ingenuousness,  yet  not  too 
much.  The  writer  is  kept  from  exaggeration  by  delicate  taste  and 
a  true  sentiment  for  the  things  of  nature.  But  at  times,  in  conformity 
with  Greek  traditions,  the  poetic  transfiguration  of  reality  is  given 
boldly,  in  pretty  poetic  myths.  The  handsome  youth  Daphnis,  loved 
by  the  nymph  Nais,  dying  in  the  flower  of  his  age,  and  mourned  by 
all  the  rustic  divinities,  is  the  subject  of  a  threnody  in  which  the 
genius  of  the  great  poet  allows  itself  free  i^lay.^  Elsewhere  Daphnis 
becomes  in  turn  a  personage  of  rustic  mimes.  It  is  no  longer  a  real, 
contemporary  shepherd,  but  a  legendary,  ideal  one  whom  Theocritus 
puts  before  us.  The  same  is  true  of  the  Cyclops  Polyphemus.  Thus 
idealism  and  pure  poetry,  in  their  traditional  form  of  myth,  enter 
unaltered  into  the  rustic  mime. 

By  the  siile  of  these  frankly  rustic  idylls,  the  Syracnsan  Women 
forms,  as  it  were,  a  class  by  itself.  It  is  a  no  less  delightful  work 
than  the  preceding.  The  two  mothers,  like  the  .shepherds  of  Sicily, 
are  true,  simple,  ingenuous.  They  have  the  tattling  manners  and 
quick  repartee  of  the  city ;  but  they  abound  in  proverbs.  They  are 
amazed  at  all  they  see  at  the  festival  in  Alexandria;  they  are  afraid 
of  the  large  bay  horse ;  they  complain  about  their  husbands,  and  are 
withal  honest  creatures.  Tliey  do  not  sing,  but  are  going  to  hear  a 
song  ;  and  the  graceful  lament  in  honor  of  Adonis,  which  crowns  the 
mime,  sheds  a  perfume  of  poetry  over  the  amusing  and  gay  picture 
of  a  nook  in  the  great  city  and  completes  its  beauty. 

The  poet's  other  works  are  less  characteristic  and  less  complete. 
Some  of  them  are  still  beautiful,  but  of  a  different  character.  Five 
idylls  are  stories  of  heroic  adventure  more  or  less  in  imitation  of 

:  X.  •J4-.;7.  2  Idyll  I. 


Alexandrian  Poetry  451 

epic.  The  prettiest  axe  the  story  of  the  Death  of  Hylas  (XIII),  the 
young  friend  of  Heracles  abducted  from  the  water  by  the  nymphs 
at  the  moment  when  he  is  plunging  a  vessel  into  the  basin  of  the 
spring  —  a  very  graceful  epic  elegy ;  then  Hercules  Slaying  the  Lion 
(XXV),  with  a  tine  description  of  the  return  of  the  herds  of  Augeas, 
numberless  as  the  clouds  driven  by  the  wind,  a  short  description  of  the 
struggle  with  the  bull,  of  an  intense  sculptural  tendency,  and  a  longer 
story  of  the  struggle  with  the  lion,  in  which  the  same  merits  are 
heightened  by  a  vivid  portrayal  of  the  terror  that  the  monster  inspires ; 
finally,  the  twenty-fourth  Idyll,  the  Child  Heracles  (UpaKXcaKO's),  on 
the  subject  of  the  hero's  first  exploit,  his  struggle  with  the  two 
serpents  sent  against  him  by  Hera.  It  is  a  charming  miniature  epic, 
which,  though  not  having  the  religious  grandeur  of  the  story  of 
Pindar,  is  graceful  or  picturesque  in  every  detail :  the  sleep  of  the 
children,  the  arrival  of  the  two  monsters,  the  terror  of  Iphicles  and 
the  valor  of  Heracles,  the  hasty  struggle,  the  distracted  awakening 
of  Alcmene,  and  the  closing  scene.  The  Hymn  to  Ptolemy  (XVII) 
is  only  an  official  poem  of  cold  elegance.  The  Hymn  to  Hiero  (XVI), 
a  half-familiar  epistle,  is  pleasing.  Still  an  epistle  and  thoroughly 
exquisite  is  the  Distaff  (XXVII),  written  in  Asclepiads ;  Theocritus 
sends  his  friend,  Nicias  of  Miletus,  a  distaff  of  ivory  for  the  pretty 
Theugnis,  his  friend's  wife.  In  a  few  delightful  verses  he  gives  the 
eulogy  of  Theugnis  and  of  Nicias. 

The  poet's  versification  and  style  show  no  less  novelty  than  his 
inspiration.     In  every  respect  he  is  a  superior  artist. 

We  have  seen  that  the  hexameter  is  predominant  in  his  works, 
as  well  in  rustic  dialogue  or  even  the  songs  of  sheplierds  as  in  the 
hymns  and  short  epics.  But  in  adapting  itself  to  such  diverse  uses, 
the  hexameter  changed  its  nature.  Nothing  is  more  flexible  or 
varied  than  the  hexameter  of  Theocritus.  According  to  circum- 
stances, it  is  flowing  and  easy  in  narratives  or  descriptions ;  sharp 
and  clear  in  lyric  song;  light,  quick,  broken,  when  necessary  in 
familiar  dialogue.  It  develops  into  periods  and  strophes  of  greater 
or  less  length  ;  is  repeated  in  refrains,  or  divided  into  short  members, 
at  the  option  of  the  interlocutors.  There  are  verses  of  Homeric 
amplitude,  and  others  of  exceedingly  graceful  vivacity.  The  latter 
quality  is  secured  chiefly  by  the  diaeresis.  That  called  "  bucolic," 
which  breaks  the  rhythm  at  the  end  of  the  fourth  foot,  is  particu- 
larly characteristic.  He  did  not  invent  it,  but  the  frequent  use  he 
made  of  it  was  original.  His  verse-endings  are  often  unexpected, 
and  please  the  ear  and  the  intelligence.  Hexameter,  thus  employed, 
became  a  really  new  verse,  the  creation  of  a  superior  artist,  marvel- 
lously well  adapted  to  its  purpose. 


452  Chreek  Literature 

The  style  is  no  less  clever  or  novel. 

The  dialect  of  the  idylls  is  thoroughly  literary,  harmoniously 
chosen,  and  composed  to  suit  the  nature  of  the  poems.  Two  epic 
idylls  are  in  Ionic ;  several  songs  imitated  from  the  poets  of  Lesbos 
are  in  .^olic;  the  predominant  dialect  is  a  more  or  less  artificial 
Doric,  in  imitation  of  the  ordinary  heroes  of  Theocritus,  who  are 
shepherds  of  Sicily,  or  humble  people  of  Syracuse ;  and  in  accord- 
ance with  the  precedents  of  the  mime  after  Sophron,  it  is  Syracusan. 
Whatever  the  importance  of  the  dialect  for  a  Greek  poet,  the  choice 
of  words  and  the  structure  of  sentences  evidently  are  more  important 
still. 

The  words  in  these  poems  have  a  rare  flavor.  Even  in  epic  narra- 
tives, like  the  Child  Herades,  the  plastic  sense  qualities  of  the  words, 
the  highly  colored  precision  which  puts  things  before  our  ej'es,  are 
continually  manifest.  In  the  rustic  idylls  this  picturesque  charac- 
ter is  still  more  remarkable.  Hjis_reailisin_does  not  _hesitate_to  .give 
specific  namesj  he  thus  designates  plants,  trees,  animals ;  he  knows 
"the  fruits  whose  perfumes  are  fused  in  the  fragrance  of  summer, 
and  the  trees  that  bend  above  the  fountain  of  Bourina.  Noth- 
ing is  vague.  He.,  seeks  no  stjjted  nobility  or  false  elegance.  He 
imitates  the  whistle  of  shepherds  calling  their  herds  {(titto),  and 
the  mocking  cry  of  a  young  girl  as  she  runs  away  (TroTrirvXid^eL).  All 
this  is  of  extraordinary  precision  and  truth.  And  with  it  goes  the 
plain,  ample  word  which,  with  a  single  effort,  calls  up  the  grandeur 
of  mountain  or  sea,  the  heat  of  summer,  or  the  opulence  of  autumn. 
The  whole  is  sober,  full,  and  strong ;  nqthkig^isLaisalfiSS,  nothing 
superfluous,  nothing  inexpressive  or  petty.  Polyphemus  says  to 
Galatea :  — 

"  0  fair  Galatea,  why  refuse  him  who  loves  thee  ?  Thou  art 
fairer  than  snow-white  cheese,  more  dainty  than  a  lamb,  more  active 
than  a  heifer,  more  acrid  than  an  unripe  grape."  ^ 

Around  the  rim  of  the  bowl  which  the  goatherd  of  the  first  Idyll 
offers  to  Thyrsis  is  a  shoot  of  ivy  :  — 

"  A  shoot  of  ivy,  sprinkled  with  buds  of  helichryse ;  and  deli- 
cately plaited  round  it,  another  shining  with  saffron-berries.*'  * 

His  sentences  are  as  flexible  as  the  ivy,  and  as  active  and  elastic 
as  Galatea.  In  dialogue,  they  are  astonishingly  free  and_easy.  In 
descriptions,  all  are  short  and  serious,  producing  complete  images 
with  few  words.     Menalchus  says  to  Daphnis  :  — 

"  The  treasures  of  Pelops  and  all  his  gold  do  not  excite  my 
envy.    I  have  no  wish  to  outrun  the  winds.    On  this  rock  will  I  sing. 

1  XI,  20-24.  2  i^  3o_3i. 


Alexandrian  Poetry  453 

Clasping  thee  in  mine  arms,  I  shall  keep  watch  of  our  mingled  herds, 
and  look  out  over  the  sea  of  Sicily."  ^ 

In  the  lyric  parts  above  all,  the  brisk,  lively  sentences  are  sus- 
tained by  a  breathless  rhythm,  so  to  speak,  which  reveals  a  poet  born 
to  voice  affection.  In  the  regular,  hurried  movement  of  small  groups 
of  words,  put  side  by  side  instead  of  being  joined,  one  feels  the 
throb  of  passion,  almost  the  heart-beats.  Perhaps  it  is  in  this  funda- 
mental rhythm  that  the  most  truly  personal  traits  of  the  author 
appear.  In  the  Thalysice,  an  excellent  poem,  in  which  every  tone 
and  form  of  Theocritean  idyll  can  be  met,  one  easily  sees  that  from 
end  to  end,  beneath  the  superficial  differences,  there  vibrates  con- 
stantly the  same  trembling  imagination,  the  same  strong,  lyric 
spirit. 

In  these  original,  sincere,  vigorous  qualities,  Theocritus  surpassed 
all  his  contemporaries.  He  had,  in  addition,  the  rare  Torlilne"  of 
creating  a  lasting  type.  He  introduced  the  songs  of  humble  peas- 
ants into  literature  proper.  Vergil  and  Andre  Chenier  are  disciples 
of  his.  Since  the  Alexandrian  period  he  has  had  imitators,  some 
of  whom  were  pleasing  or  even  exquisite  in  talent. 

6.  Imitators  of  Theocritus.  —  Among  the  foremost  of  such  dis- 
ciples we  must  place  the  unknown  author  of  the  idyll  entitled 
Oaristys  (familiar  chat ;  from  6ap,  wife).  Although  the  poem  is 
found  in  the  collection  of  Theocritus,  it  is  certainly  not  his ;  for  a 
verse  of  the  third  Idyll  is  cited  literally ;  and  besides,  Theocritus 
never  made  his  personages  speak  in  stichomythy  —  dialogue  in 
which  each  speaker  in  turn  utters  only  a  single  verse,  as  in  the 
Oaristys.  The  poem  is,  however,  charming.  The  two  personages, 
shepherd  and  shepherdess,  are  picturesque,  clever,  and  truly  drawn. 
Their  sentiments  and  attitudes  in  the  various  phases  of  the  conver- 
sation are  indicated  with  as  delicate  and  sure  a  stroke  as  in  the 
Syracusan  Women.  It  is  a  real  mime.  Andre  Chenier  translated  it ; 
his  translation  turns  well  the  grace  of  the  original,  yet  does  not 
preserve  all  its  biting  precision  and  ingenuity. 

Bion  and  Moschus,  whose  names  are  often  associated  with  that 
of  Theocritus,  are  pleasing^  |)oets,  though  secondary.^  Bion  of 
Smyrna  seems  to  have  lived  about  the  same  time  as  Theocritus. 
We  have  seventy  extracts,  some  fragmentary,  from  his  works.  The 
longest  is  a  Threnody  to  Adonis,  evidently  inspired  by  the  picture 
terminating  the  Syracusan  Womeyi,  and  imitated  also  from  the  First 
Idyll.     Bion  has  a  true  poet's  qualities  of  emotion  and  harmony, 

1  VIII,  5.3-56. 

'■'  Their  works  follow  those  of  Theocritus  in  Ileindorf's  edition  of  the  Bncnlici 
Grceci  and  the  Didot  Bucolici  Grceci :  also  in  the  edition  of  Ahrens.  etc. 


454  Greek  Literature 

Fragments  VI  and  XV  depict  shepherds  engaged  in  a  dialogue. 
The  other  passages  are  not  really  bucolic  and  reveal  in  him  a  talented 
poet  of  love  who  puts  into  the  painting  of  affection  less  of  passion 
than  of  literary  gentility.  Moschjos,  born  at  Syracuse,  was  a  pupil 
of  Aristarchus,  and  so  liveTi  at  the  close  of  the  second  century. 
We  have  under  his  name,  among  other  works,  a  Threnody  to  Bion, 
which  patterns  after  the  earlier  threnodies  to  Daphnis  and  Adonis, 
but  has  more  of  intellect  than  of  emotion.  The  author  of  the  poem 
presents  himself  as  a  bucolic  poet.  The  other  works  attributed  to 
him,  however,  have  nothing  in  common  with  the  rustic  idylls  of 
Theocritus.  The  principal  ones  are  two  poems  or  fragments,  entitled 
Europa  and  Megara,  which  recall  the  epic  idylls  of  Theocritus.  The 
Exiropa  relates  with  amiable  simplicity,  in  the  Ionic  dialect,  the 
abduction  of  a  young  girl  by  Zeus,  who  assumed  the  form  of  a  bull. 
The-  Megara  is  a  wordy  conversation,  though  at  times  rather  affecting, 
between  jVIegara,  wife  of  Heracles,  and  Alcmene.  Megara  laments 
the  follies  of  Heracles,  and  Alcmene  nobly  seconds  her  lament. 

7.  Academic  Poetry.  —  The  sincere  emotion  which  constitutes  the 
beauty  of  the  idylls  of  Theocritus  is  the  element  chiefly  missed  in  a 
group  of  contemporary  poets,  also  celebrated  and  clever,  but  well 
characterized  in  a  word  by  being  called  "academic."  They  are  more 
scholarly  than  inspired,  more  descriptive  than  passionate  —  rather 
versifiers,  in  short,  than  poets.  Such  are  the  many-sided  Callima- 
chus,  the  didactic  poet  Aratus,  tlie  epic  poet  Apollonius,  —  who 
is,  however,  more  original  than  the  others,  —  and  the  tragic  poet 
Lycophron. 

8.  Qgllimachus.  —  This  poet,  the  son  of  Battus,  was  born  at  Cyrene 
toward  the  close  of  the  fourth  century.^  His  family,  he  tells  us,  was 
descended  from  the  ancient  kings  of  Cyrene.  As  a  grammarian  and 
poet,  he  had  a  reputation  at  the  court  of^Philadelp^jiis,  who,  after 
the  death  of  Zenodotus,  gave  him  the  direction  of  the  Alexandrian 
library.  His  life  was  divided  between  the  works  of  erudition  already 
mentioned  and  poetry.  His  fame  was  equally  great  in  both  domains. 
He  was,  as  it  were,  the  p„ejfect  type  of  Alexandrianism.  Yet  in  his 
last  years  he  was  drawn  into  a  coarse  literary  quarrel,  which  became 
a  violent  struggle  for  victory.  His  disciple  Apollonius  wished,  to 
revive  the  heroic  epic.  Callimachus,  with  rather  good  taste,  judged 
tliat  the  age  of  heroic  epic  was  past.  The  dispute,  though  purely 
literary  at  first,  ended  in  gross  insults,  which  throw  a  weird  light  on 

1  Editions  by  Ernesti.  Lcyden,  1761  ;  Schneider,  2  vols.,  Leipsic,  1870-1873  ; 
Meineke,  Berlin,  1861  ;  Wilamnwitz-Mollendorf,  Berlin,  1882.  On  the  recently 
discovered  fragments  of  the  Jlecale,  cf.  Th.  Reinach,  Revue  des  J^tudes  grecques, 
1893,  pp.  2'i8-2G(;. 


Alexandrian  Poetry  455 

the  violence  of  men's  self-esteem  in  this  society  of  culture.     Apollo- 
nius  was  obliged  to  exile  himself  from  Alexandria.  

The  poetic  works  oF  Callimachus  were  numerous  and  varied. 
They  included  tragedies,  comedies,  satiric  dramas,  heroic  hymns, 
strictly  lyric  poems,  choliambics,  elegiac  poems  in  great  number, 
epigrams,  and  even  a  familiar  epic  entitled  Hecale.  Six  hymns,  one 
in  elegiac  verse,  have  been  transmitted  to  us,  with  sixty-three  epi- 
grams, and  a  few  fragments  of  the  Hecale.  The  chief  elegiac  poem 
was  a  Avork  in  four  books,  Aitux,  the  Causes,  or,  if  one  prefers,  the 
Origins,  an  erudite  poetic  corpus,  or  collection  of  old  Greek  legends 
pertaining  to  the  origin  of  certain  cities,  families,  or  customs.  This 
truly  Alexandrian  mixture  of  erudition  and  poetry  won  a  great  repu- 
tation ;  but  the  fragments  of  the  text  now  extant  are  not  sufficiently 
numerous  to  be  made  the  object  of  literary  study.  The  author's 
poetic  talent  is  nowhere  better  manifested  than  in  the  Hymns,  the 
Epigrams,  the  fragments  of  the  Hecale,  and  perhaps  in  the  Latin 
translation  by  Catullu*  of  the  little  poem  on  Berenice's  Hair. 

_^uch  talent,  though  admired  by  the  Greeks  of  Alexandria,  and  by 
most  literary  men  at  Rome,  seems  cold  to  us.  -The  art  is  polished 
and  clever,  but  really  lacks  sincerity^  "TKe^oet  does  not  feel  true 
emotion  nor  ingenuousTentiraent ;  ne  has  no  interest  in  the  things  of 
which  he  speaks,  save  for  their  rarity,  their  novelty,  or — what  amounts 
to  the  same  thing  —  their  antiquity.  Pure  cleverness,  pure  erudition, 
is  his  aim.  His  style  is  strained  to  the  utmost,  composed,  in  large 
measure,  of  old  forgotten  words.  All  his  adroitness  as  a  versifier 
cannot  conceal  the  prosaic  basis  on  which  the  labored  edifice  of  his 
inspiration  rests. 

These  defects  are  most  evident  in  the  Hymns.  Callimachus  sol- 
emnly chants  Zeus,  Delos,  Artemis,  Demeter,  the  Baths  of  Pallas, 
and  Apollo,  for  official  festivals.  He  should  have  used  at  least  a 
little  poetic  piety,  a  little  of  that  artistic  emotion  which,  if  sincere, 
can  be  put  in  the  place  of  faith.  But  he  had  none  of  it.  He  is  at 
great  pains  to  simulate,  by  ingeniously  combined  processes  of  style, 
the  emotion,  the  artlessness,  the  religious  fervor  that  he  does  not 
have.  Yet  he  produces  no  illusion.  Affectation,  pedantry,  political 
flattery,  erudite  curiosity,  are  his  real  inspiration ;  and  the  fact  is 
so  patent  that  we  cannot  for  an  instanF  be  duped  by  his  polished, 
but  false,  art.  Berenice's  Hair  is  a  mere  play  of  wit.  The  Queen, 
at  the  moment  when  her  husband,  the  King,  was  to  set  out  on  an 
expedition,  had  consecrated  a  lock  of  hair  to  Aphrodite  to  assure  his 
happy  return.  The  lock  disappeared  from  the  temple.  The  astrono- 
mer Conon,  a  knightly  courtier,  declared  that  it  had  been  transformed 
into  a  constellation,  which  he  had  just  discovered  in  the  heavens. 


456  Crreek  Literature 

Callimachus  represents  the  lock  of  hair  as  telling  of  its  metamorpho- 
sis. It  is  a  rather  pleasing  jest ;  but  it  reminds  one  too  strongly  of 
th^ petty  poets  of  France  in  the  eighteenth  century,  j  In  the  writ- 
ing of  epigraroSjJIIallimachus  was  much  more^successful.  He  really 
had  talent:  he  was  one  of  the  first  Greek  writers  of  epigram  to 
combine  with  real  Alexandrian  elegance,  dash  in  the  modern  sense 
of  the  term.  The  Ilecale  was  one  of  his  last  works.  He  wrote 
it  in  response  to  Apollonius,  who  accused  him  of  decrying  epic 
poetry  because  of  lacking  power  to  write  epic.  He  wished  to  show 
what  contemporary  epic  —  a  truly  original  epic —  must  be  like.  The 
very  rare  fragments  of  this  poem  cause  one  to  regret  the  loss  of  the 
rest.  "  Hecale  "  is  the  name  of  an  old  lady  in  Attica,  who  had  given 
hospitality  to  Theseus  on  the  eve  of  his  struggle  with  the  Marathonian 
Bull.  The  fragments  show  that  their  author  was  amusing  himself 
by  representing,  with  picturesque  realism,  familiar  details  in  the  life 
of  his  heroine.  A  neighbor,  all  icy  with  the  cold  of  the  morning, 
comes  to  awake  her,  and  says :  — 

"  Come,  the  hands  of  robbers  are  no  longer  astir ;  see  how  the 
lamps  of  morning  shine;  the  water-carrier  is  singing  his  refrain  ;  the 
people  in  the  house  next  down  the  road  are  awakened  by  the  axle, 
creaking  beneath  the  chariot ;  and  the  blacksmiths  are  hammering 
away,  with  a  noise  that  almost  makes  them  deaf."  ^ 

It  is  pretty  and  ingenious ;  but  nothing  shows  better  than  these 
graceful  details  how  far  Callimachus  is  from  Homer  and  Pindar, 
and  why  his  Hymns  are  so  unbearable. 

9.  Aratus.  —  The  logical  end  of  so  much  erudition  was  didactic 
joetry*  Which,  in  the  Alexandrian  period,  really  had  a  renaissance. 
The  initiator  of  the  reawakening  was  Aratus.  He  was  born  at  Soli 
in  Cilicia  about  315,  and  was  a  pupil  by  turns  of  the  philosophers 
and  of  the  poet  Philetas,  and  a  friend  of  Theocritus.  He  passed 
most  of  his  life  at  the  court  of  Macedon.^  Among  numerous  works 
in  prose  and  verse,  he  composed  a  noted  didactic  poem  in  two  books, 
the  Phenomena  (4>aivd/[Aeva) :  the  first  was  an  exposition  of  current 
notions  of  astronomy ;  the  second  treated  signs  of  the  times,  or  prog- 
nostics (Aio(7-T7/ictai).     It  is  a  ])0])ular  meteorology. 

Hesiod  liad  made  didactic  poetry  chiefly  the  grave,  religious 
interpreter  of  an  impersonal  tradition.  For  the,  philosophers  of  the 
sixth  and  fifth  centuries,  it  was  the  reasoning,  ardent  voice  of  indi- 
vidual intelligence  proceeding  to  the  conquest  of  truth.  In  vVratus 
it  was  neither.     It  was  tlie  elegant  popularization  of  a  science  not 

'  Kfinach,  Rpvup  iJt'n  I-ldtdrs  fjrfcqnes,  1808.  pp.  258-200. 
-  Editions  by   Kochly  in   the   Didol   Poftoe  BnroUri.  II,  Paris,  1851  ;   and 
Maass,  Berlin,  1893.     Translation  by  E.  Poste,  London,  1880. 


Alexandrian  Poetry  457 

established  by  itself  nor  bj  tradition.  Aratus  limits  his  thoroughly- 
literary  ambition  to  translating  into  elegant  verse  the  prose  works 
of  a  true  scholar,  Eudoxus  of  Cnidus.  There  is  danger  in  such  a 
process  that  one  will  introduce  a  chilly,  prosaic  element.  The  pas- 
sion of  Lucretius,  the  exquisite  melancholy  of  Vergil,  are  indispen- 
sable for  its  success.  But  Aratus  was  neither  a  Lucretius  nor  a 
Vergil ;  he  was  a  highly  talented  Alexandrian,  and  nothing  more. 
He  has  some  of  the  merits  of  Boileau,  but  with  less  conviction  and 
more  elegance.  He  might  be  compared  with  Saint  Lambert;  like 
the  poet  of  the  Saisons,  he  is  a  good  writer  and  versifier,  precise, 
harmonious,  and  cold.  He  had  a  wide  reputation,  and  his  book  be- 
came classic.  Even  great  scholars  like  Hipparchus  and  Dionysius 
wrote  commentaries  on  it.  At  Rome,  Varro  and  Cicero  translated, 
and  Vergil  imitated  and  surpassed  it.  In  short,  Aratus  had  the  merit 
of  bringing  within  reach  of  all  cultured  readers  a  science  which,  till 
then,  seemed  reserved  for  specialists. 

10.  Apollonius  of  Rhodes. — Over  against  these  dainty  writers, 
Apollonms  is,  in  some  ways,  a  reactionist.  He  dared  to  go 
back-tO-the  heroic  epic,  in  spite  of  them.  Yet  it  was  only  a  partial 
reaction,  for  he  was  still  much  more  Alexandrian  and  much  less 
Homeric  than  he  believed  himself  to  be.  He  did,  however,  have 
considerable  talent.^ 

As  he  was  born  at  Alexandria,  Rhodes  was  simply  his  adopted 
country,  when  his  quarrel  with  Callimachus  had  forced  him  into 
exile.  The  date  of  his  birth  cannot  be  determined  with  precision. 
He  was  the  pupil  of  Callimachus ;  while  still  young,  he  composed 
his  Argonautica,  in  opposition  to  the  counsel  of  his  master ;  and  he 
ended  his  life  at  Rhodes,  where  probably  he  finished  his  poem,  and 
published  the  two  successive  editions  of  it. 

The  Argonautica  is  in  four  books  and  has  almost  six  thousand 
verses.  In  the  first  two  books  we  have  the  reunion  of  the  Argo- 
nauts, their  departure,  the  voyage  to  Colchis ;  and  in  the  last  two, 
the  actjuisition  of  the  fleece  with  Medea's  assistance,  and  the  return 
to  Greece.  A  multitude  of  episodes,  descriptions,  and  combats  find 
their  place  in  the  action,  and  enrich  it. 

The  poet's  evident  aim  was  to  be  the  Homer  of  his  age  —  to 
give  to  Greece,  in  a  single  poem,  an  lliad  and  Odyssey  adapted  to 
the  taste  of  the  day.     What  is   retained   of   ancient   epic   is   the 

1  Editions  by  Lehrs  in  the  Didot  Hesiod,  ParLs,  1862 ;  and  by  Merkel, 
Leipsic,  Teubner.  1H82. 

French  translation  by  De  la  Ville  de  Mirmont,  Bordeaux,  1892.  English 
translation  by  Preston.  3  vols.,  Dublin.  180.3. 

Articles  by  Sainte-Beuve,  La  Mklee  iV Apollonius,  in  Portraits  contprn- 
porains,  vol.  V  ;  and  J.  Girard,  J^tudes  nur  la  poesic  grecqiie,  Paris,  1884. 


458  Greek  Literature 

y^narvels,  the  combats,  the  adventvires,  the  catalogues.  What  is 
added  is,  first,  scholarly  erudition :  geography,  new  myths,  etymolo- 
gies, popular,  quaint  customs,  exotic  or  antiquated  rites;  and, 
secondly,  depiction  of  love.  Hence  his  poem  may  be  called  partly 
lead  and  partly  living.  The  dead  part  is  not  only  that  in  which 
he  treats  the  traditional  themes  of  epic,  without  having  the  ability 
to  handle  such  subjects;  but  also  that  filled  with  erudition,  which 
is  naturally  ill-adapted  to  poetry,  and,  above  all,  to  this  type  of 
poetry.  The  living  part  is  the  enduring  portrayal  of  love.  There 
he  could  display  all  his  talent,  and  it  was  considerable ;  he  showed 
himself  perhaps  more  of  an  innovator,  more  original,  a  greater 
poet  than  has  commonly  been  supposed.  We  shall  leave  aside 
all  that  we  have  called  dead  in  the  poem.     In  it  his  merits  and 

-defacts-are  in  no  way  novel,  but  belong  to  his  time  —  erudition, 
affectatioiij  ingenious  subtlety,  a  liking  for  the  pretty  rather  than 
the  beautiful,  the  absence  of  sincerity  and  emotion,  and  a  composite 
style,  in  which  research  and  the  qualities  of  prose  are  combined  in 
the  manner  of  Callimachus.  If  Apollonius  had  produced  only  this, 
he  would  not  deserve  notice.  But  with  the  passion  of  Medea,  every- 
thing was  to  change;  not  because  the  affectation  of  Alexandria  is 
absent  —  for  it  appears  again  and  again  in  the  description  —  but  be- 
cause her  love  is  a  sincere,  strong  sentiment,  a  true  passion.  If  it 
is  not  a  Homeric  passion,  it  is  at  least  one  worthy  of  epic  as  con- 
ceived by  Vergil.  Apollonius  enlarged,  but  did  not  destroy,  the 
frame  of  epic.  He  introduced  love,  and  painted  it  with  sufficient 
power  to  make  it  appropriate  to  the  grandeur  of  the  type ;  and  suf- 
ficient originality  to  leave  an  imperishable  memory. 

The  originality  of  his  painting  consists  in  a  subtleijc-^^Balysis 
which,  before  his  time,  we  do  not  find  exemplified.  Perhaps  too 
little  emphasis  has  been  put  upon  the  novelty  of  studying,  at  this 
date,  hour  by  hour,  as  it  were,  the  rise  of  a  passion  in  the  human 
heart,  following  its  growth  with  exactitude,  describing  its  uncer- 
tainties and  painful  struggles,  and  arriving  slowly,  without  weari- 
ness, at  the  time  of  its  final  outburst,  to  describe  this  with  admirable 
vigor  and  effectiveness.  Euripides  took  only  the  first  steps  in  the 
path  of  the  minute  psychological  analysis  of  passion.  The  story  of 
Medea,  in  the  third  book  of  the  Arcjonautica,  is  that  of  a  heart  fallen 
a  prey  to  an  emotion  which  we  see  in  its  beginning ;  and,  as  it  grows 
more  powerful,  we  follow  with  deep  sympathy  through  its  various 
stages  of  joy,  disappointment,  and  despair.  From  the  first  audience 
accorded  by  ^Eetes  to  Jason,  from  the  first  revery  which  comes  to 
disturb  her  quiet,  from  her  conversations  with  her  sister  Chalcippe, 
to  the  admirable  scene  where,  in  the  temple  of  Hecate,  she  waits 


Alexandrian  Poetry  459 

for  Jason,  sees  him  coining,  talks  with  him,  and  finally,  unburden- 
ing her  heart,  resolves  on  flight,  there  is  a  continuous  progress,  a 
dramatic  pulsation  which  animates  the  subtle  analyses,  and  carries 
us  along  with  an  irresistible  movement.  It  is  the  art  of  Vergil,  of 
Racine,  of  a  modern  writer  of  romance.  No  less  remarkable  is  the 
nature  of  the  elements  that  enter  into  the  painting.  Medea  is  a 
young  girl :  her  life  has  always  been  chaste,  her  imagination  pure. 
She  struggles  against  herself  in  dismay.  Everything  conspires 
against  her  will ;  the  conduct  of  her  sister  reassures  her ;  specious 
sophisms  present  themselves  to  her  from  every  quarter.  When  she 
has  resolved  to  be  a  criminal,  she  preserves  still  the  delicacy  of  lan- 
guage and  dignity  of  attitude  which  constitute  her  personality. 
The  Medea  of  Apollonius  gives  us  a  presentiment  of  the  PhMre  of 
Racine;  and  this  does  her  no  little  honor.  But  —  it  may  be  objected 
—  is  such  a  noble  passion  in  harmony  with  the  other  traits  in  the 
character  of  a  powerful,  sometimes  cruel,  magician  ?  No,  without 
doubt.  This  is  the  insurmountable  difficulty  in  a  situation  com- 
posed of  complex  and  contradictory  elements.  Even  Racine,  in 
Plihlre  and  Iphig4nie,  could  not  completely  triumph  over  it.  One 
can  say  in  honor  of  Apollonius  that,  like  all  great  artists,  he  had  the 
cleverness  to  fuse  the  discordant  elements  into  a  whole  sufficiently 
harmonious  not  to  offend  one's  taste ;  and  that,  on  the  whole,  what 
appears  most  prominent  in  his  poem  is  the  character  of  the  pas- 
sionate young  girl,  ardently  affectionate  despite  her  troubles,  and 
capable  of  anything  under  the  influence  of  an  irresistible  passion. 
The  magician  passes  into  the  background,  and  can  be  forgotten 
without  great  difficulty. 

Though  the  style  of  Apollonius  is  too  composite  to  be  of  classic 
beauty,  it  has  merits  of  the  first  order.  The  numerous  speeches  are 
extremely  clever.  Some  of  Medea,'s  monologues  are  of  admirable 
dramatic  power.  In  its  main  features,  the  scene  where  Medea  makes 
her  final  resolution  has  this  nature.  Imitations  of  the  earlier  poets, 
which,  moreover,  became  the  models  followed  by  Vergil  and  Racine, 
are  woven  together  into  a  really  powerful  fabric.^ 

"  Meanwhile  night  threw  its  shadows  over  the  land ;  on  the  sea, 
the  sailors  were  watching  from  the  ships  Helice  and  the  stars  of 
Orion.  The  hour  of  slumber  was  awaited  by  the  voyager  on  the 
ship  and  by  the  guardian  who  kept  watch  at  the  doors.  Tlie  very 
mother  who  had  seen  her  children  perish  was  enveloped  in  deep 
slumber ;  the  barking  of  the  dogs  in  the  city  had  ceased.  No  echo 
was  heard  any  more ;  silence  ruled  the  darkness  of  the  night. 

"  But  sweet  sleep  came  not  to  Medea.     A  thousand  cares,  spring- 

1  III,  743-800  (the  translation  as  given  by  H.  de  la  Ville  de  Mirmont,  ex- 
cepting a  few  words) . 


460  Grreek  Literature 

ing  from  her  love  of  Jason,  kept  her  wakeful.  .  .  .  Constantly  did 
her  heart  throb  in  her  breast.  As  in  a  chamber  a  ray  of  sunlight 
quivers,  reflected  from  the  water  that  some  one  has  poured  into  a 
caldron  or  a  bucket ;  troubled  by  the  rapid  whirling,  it  leaps  to 
this  side  and  that,  so  did  the  young  girl's  heart  beat  within  her 
bosom.  .  .  . 

"  Now  she  said  to  herself  that  she  would  give  the  magic  potion 
that  would  calm  the  bulls  ;  now  that  she  would  refuse ;  she  dreamed 
of  ending  her  life,  then  of  not  dying,  not  giving  the  potion,  bearing 
her  trouble  in  silence.  Finally,  seating  herself,  she  pondered  and 
said :  — 

" '  Poor  mortal  that  I  am  !  Enveloped  as  I  am  with  evils,  whither 
shall  I  turn  ?  On  every  hand  doth  my  heart  find  uncertainties ; 
there  is  no  healing  for  my  sufferings,  that  cease  not  to  torment 
me.  Oh,  if  Artemis  could  have  slain  me  with  her  swift  arrows  ere 
ever  I  had  seen  this  man.  .  .  .  How,  without  letting  my  parents 
know,  can  I  prepare  the  magic  potion  ?  What  excuse  shall  I  make 
to  them  ?  what  ruse  invent  to  conceal  my  helper  ?  Shall  I  address 
myself  to  him  when  far  from  his  companions  ?  Unhappy  me ! 
Though  he  should  perish,  I  could  not  hope  for  respite  from  my  tor- 
ment ;  though  he  were  gone,  my  woes  would  end  my  life.  Farewell, 
my  modesty,  farewell,  my  glory.  Let  him  be  saved  by  me,  and  go 
unharmed  at  the  free  option  of  his  heart.' " 

Quintilian  ^  says  of  Apollonius  that  his  poem  merits  respect  for  its 
sustained  evenness  of  medium  qualities.  The  judgment  applies  well 
to  the  beginning  and  end  of  the  Argonautica,  but  it  is  unjust  for  the 
third  book.  The  creator  of  the  personage  of  Medea,  though  aca- 
demic and  Alexandrian  in  so  many  ways,  had  his  hour  of  true  in- 
spiration and  his  ray  of  genius. 

11.  Lycophron. — The  wordy  virtuosity  rendered  fashionable  by 
Callimachus  was  to  lead  to  strange  excesses.  When  the  cult  of  the 
phrase  and  of  fine  writing  was  exalted  more  and  more  above  the 
care  for  seriousness  of  thought,  there  were  always  eccentric  writers 
who  fell  into  the  fustian  under  pretext  of  art  and  produced  the 
unintelligible.  This  role  was  held  at  Alexandria  by  Lycophron,  sur- 
named  the  "  Obscure.  "  ^  Born  at  Chalcis  and  attracted  to  Alexan- 
dria, like  so  many  others,  by  the  splendor  of  Philadelphus,  he  won 
there  a  great  reputation  as  a  dramatic  poet,  and  was  counted  one  of 
the  celebrated  tragic  "  pleiad. "  Besides  some  very  short  fragments 
of  his  works,  we  have  a  bizarre  poem  called  Alexandra,  which  almost 
seems  a  fragment  of  some  prodigious  drama.  It  is  an  extraordinary 
tragic  composition  of  1474  verses,  in  which  are  reported,  by  a  slave, 
apparently,  the  prophecies  of  Alexandra,  or  Cassandra,  the  daughter 
of  Priam.     They  extend  quite  to  the  Alexandrian  period.     Their 

1  Quintilian,  X.  1,  54. 

2  Editions  by  Kinkel,  Leipsic,  1880;  and  Holzinger,  Leipsic,  1896. 


Alexandrian  Poetry  461 

being  almost  unintelligible  has  given  them  celebrity.  To  interpret 
Lycophron  was,  for  the  ancient  commentators,  a  very  creditable  pro- 
fessional feat.  Yet,  in  this  unbearable  poetry,  one  must  recognize 
that  there  was  technical  cleverness,  and  even  the  germ  of  a  commend- 
able idea.  This  idea  was  that  of  restoring  to  tragic  style  its  ancient 
splendor.  Since  Euripides,  it  had  come  to  resemble  prose  closely. 
But,  with  this  aim  in  view,  Lycophron  adopted  the  processes  of  the 
old  lyric  style,  those  of  Pindar  and  ^Eschylus,  which  he  employed 
without  restraint  or  taste,  heaping  one  upon  the  other  confusedly, 
with  astonishing  lavishness  of  pedantic  and  mythological  lore.  The 
whole  was  complicated  by  the  proverbial  obscurity  of  oracles.  Lyc- 
ophron's  work  did  not  lack  talent,  but  it  no  longer  strove  to  be  in 
keeping  with  good  taste.  It  had  its  interest  only  because  it  followed 
the  fashion  of  a  certain  Alexandrianism. 

12.  The  Last  Epic,  Didactic,  and  Elegiac  Poets.  —  The  poets  just 
mentioned  opened  the  way  for  every  variety  of  composition.  After 
them,  for  two  centuries,  came  imitators,  who  performed  the  same 
tasks  with  varying  success ;  yet  not  one  of  them  was  able  to  reach 
the  highest  rank.  Their  works  have  almost  wholly  perished.  A 
few  words  will  be  sufficient  to  devote  to  them. 

The  leading  representatives  of  epic  were  Euphorion  and  Rhianus. 
Euphorion,  born  at  Chalcis  in  276,  was  the  librarian  of  Antiochus 
the  Great  from  224  to  187.  He  composed  some  mythological  poems 
{Dionysus,  Hyacintlius,  Hlppomedon,  Artemidorus,  etc.),  works  in  an  or- 
nate though  obscure  style,  which  attached  him  to  the  group  of  Callim- 
achus  and  Lycophron ;  and  even  Vergil  seems  to  have  admired  him.^ 
Rhianus,  born  in  Crete,  a  contemporary  of  Eratosthenes,  wrote  in 
the  second  half  of  the  third  century.  He  was  a  philologist  as  well  as 
a  poet.  His  Heradeid,  Achaica,  Thessalica,  etc.,  are  little  more  than 
names  for  us.  His  Messeniaca  (McaarjviaKd)  is  better  known  on  ac- 
count of  Pausanias,  who  drew  from  it  his  material  for  his  chapter  on 
Messenia;  hence  it  is  from  Rhianus  that  we  get  the  story  of  Aris- 
tomenes  and  of  his  marvellous  escape.  He  seems  to  have  written 
with  much  simplicity.  To  these  names  we  may  add  that  of  Archias, 
celebrated  chiefly  as  the  teacher  of  Cicero  —  a  ready  and  inexhausti- 
ble improviser,  who  wrote  a  poem  on  the  War  ivith  Mithridates. 

Didactic  poetry  at  this  time  produced  scarcely  more  than  one  work 
of  note,  the  Hermes  of  Eratosthenes  —  if  indeed,  this  was  really  a 
didactic  poem.  We  have  a  fragment  on  the  five  zones  whose  character 
is  didactic.-     The  style  is  in  the  taste  of  Aratus.     But  Eratosthenes 

1  Bucol.  X,  50. 

'^  Fragments  in  Meineke,  Analecta  Alexandrina,  pp.  253-338.  Published 
separately  by  Carl  Robert,  Berlin,  1878. 


462  Greek  Literature 

recounted  in  it  the  infancy  of  Hermes,  telling  how  he  caused  the 
Milky  Way  to  spurt  across  the  sky  by  gnawing  the  breast  of  Hera, 
and  describing  his  thefts,  his  travels,  and  the  discovery  of  the  lyre. 
There  was,  then,  in  the  Hermes,  something  more  than  merely  a  didac- 
tic poem.  Nicander  of  Colophon,  born  about  the  close  of  the  third 
century,  is  frankly  a  didactic  poet,  and  as  frankly  mediocre.  His 
extant  poems  on  the  bites  of  animals  and  their  remedies  {(d-qpuiKa.) 
and  on  the  antidotes  to  poisons  ('AAe^K^ap/xaKa)  are  only  tasteless 
compilations.  His  other  works  in  verse  and  prose  belong  to  history, 
geography,  and  natural  history. 

The  mythological  and  romantic  elegy,  so  much  cultivated  by  the 
first  generation  of  Alexandrians,  still  continued  in  honor.  Here 
again  we  find  the  name  of  Eratosthenes,  whose  Erigone  no  doubt 
told  the  old  Attic  legends  concerning  the  daughter  of  Icarius,  and 
how  she  and  her  dog  were  changed  into  a  constellation.  After  Era- 
tosthenes, we  must  come  down  as  far  as  the  first  century  to  meet 
any  other  elegiac  poet  of  renown.  It  is  Parthenius  of  Nicaea,  the 
friend  of  Gallus,  who  came  to  Kome  in  73  as  a  prisoner  of  war,  and 
probably  knew  Vergil.^  We  know  little  more  than  the  titles  of  his 
elegies  (Aphrodite,  Delos,  Crinagoras)  and  those  of  other  poems  in 
hexameter  {Metamorphoses,  Heracles).  But  we  have  a  prose  work 
on  the  Sufferings  of  Love-  which  he  composed  for  Gallus.  It  throws 
some  light  on  the  character  of  his  usual  inspiration,  being  a  collec- 
tion of  legends  about  love  adventures  that  ended,  usually,  in  catas- 
trophes or  metamorphoses.  Parthenius  was  a  stylist  of  the  school 
of  Callimachus.  In  subject-matter  and  date,  he  differs  little  from 
Ovid. 

13.  Continuance  of  the  Epigram:  Meleagy;  the  Anthologies.  —  Be- 
sides these  various  types,  we  meetTiTnusperiod  a  lasting^one  in  the 
epigram,  which  has  flourished  ever  since,  living  longer  than  Hel- 
lenism. Its  evident  facility  rendered  it  particularly  attractive  for 
simple  amateurs.  We  know  the  names  of  more  than  forty  epigram- 
matists of  this  period.  Every  one  tried  a  hand  at  it.  In  the  throng 
of  artists  and  simple  amateurs,  talent  was  current  coin ;  the  rare 
thing  was  originality.  We  need  mention  only  Dioscorides,  Alcaeus 
of  Messene,  and  Antipater  of  Sidon;  and  even  these  are  merely 
agreeable,  polished  versifiers. 

Meleager  of  Gadara  in  Syria,  born  about  the  middle  of  the  second 
century,  is  much  more  interesting.''     He  was   distinguished   from 

1  Fra^^ents  in  the  Teubner  Mythographi  Groeci,  II,  1,  1896. 

^  Jacobs,  Anthology,  I,  pp.  227-229. 

*  Ibid.  I.  The  article  of  Sainte-Beuve,  Portraits  contemporains,  vol.  V  ; 
and  one  by  Henri  Ouvr6,  Meleagre  de  Gadara,  Paris,  1894.  French  translation 
by  I'ierre  Loiiys. 


Alexandrian  Poetry  463 

most  of  his  contemporaries  by  the  personal  character  of  his  epigrams. 
A  disciple  of  the  Cynic  philosopher  Menippus,  his  countryman,  he 
led  a  life  of  pleasure.  His  epigrams  are  filled  with  the  echoing  of  his 
— pftemtm.  Sometimes  they  are  even  licentious  in  tone,  or  weakened 
by  fine  writing.  Generally  they  have  the  merit  of  sincerity.  Some 
few  attained  emotion  and  beauty.  When  death  had  caught  away 
from  him  Heliodora,  whose  beauty  and  skill  he  had  often  celebrated, 
he  expressed  his  sadness  in  really  elegant  verses :  — 

"0  that  these  tears,  tears  bitter  to  shed,  could  go  to  thee  in 
Hades  as  a  present,  Heliodora,  as  a  relic  of  my  love.  Upon  thy 
tomb,  where  so  often  I  have  Avept,  I  pour  the  libation  of  my  sorrow, 
the  souvenir  of  my  affection.  I,  Meleager,  sigh  for  thee,  dear 
one  among  the  deceased  —  sigh  in  sorrow,  sigh  vainly  to  Acheron. 
Alas !  alas !  where  is  the  verdant  branch  that  I  so  much  loved  ? 
Hades  has  taken  it,  and  the  blossoming  flower  is  tarnished  with  dust. 
Ah,  at  least,  0  Earth,  her  nurse,  I  pray  thee  on  my  knees,  dear 
Mother,  that  she  whom  I  so  regret  may  be  received  with  tenderness 
upon  thy  lap  and  in  thy  arms." ' 

Meleager  has  another  claim  to  recognition  than  his  merit  as  a 
poet.  He  had  the  plan  of  collecting,  Avith  his  own  works,  a  select 
number  of  the  songs,  elegies,  and  epigrams  of  some  forty  Greek 
poets,  from  the  classics  of  the  seventh  century  to  his  own  times. 
He  called  the  collection  the  Croivn  or  Wreath  (Sre^avos).  A  long 
dedication  in  verse  to  his  friend  JJiocies,  which  is  still  extant, 
explains  the  general  title  by  the  somewhat  pretentious  and  subtle 
comparison  of  each  poet  with  a  particular  flower.  The  Crown  of 
Meleager  was  not  exactly  the  first  of  the  anthologies  ;  for  among 
others,  Artemidorus  of  Ephesus  had  already  formed  a  collection  of 
bucolic  poems.  But  it  was  probably  the  first  body  of  poetry  to  be 
so  rich  and  varied ;  and  it  had  a  great  vogue.  It  was  the  model  for 
all  subsequent  anthologies.  We  proJtuibl^  owe  to  it  the  preservation 
of  some  jewels  of  ancient  Greek  poetry,  despite  the  vexatious  habit 
by  which  the  later  authors  of  anthologies  eliminated  more  and  more 
of  the  ancient  selections  and  substituted  for  them  contemporary 
works. 

The  appearance  of  anthologies  is  a  sign  that  Greek  poetry^  at  the 
.tijne  to  which  we  have  come  down,  had  grown  old.  Men  were  busy 
piously  collecting  its  remains.  It. still  continued  to  live  and  to  pro- 
duce works,  though  in  a  less  vigorous  vein.  The  great  ^^nt.io^l^^.^  in- 
spiration  of  the  classic  ages  had  disappeared.  The  individualistic 
inspiration  of  modern  writers  was  not  yet  in  existence.  Neither 
erudition  nor  fine  writing   could   long   keep   alive   the   poesy   yet 

1  Jacobs,  Anthology,  I,  p.  109. 


464  Greek  Literature 

remaining  in  the  Greek  world.  With  the  close  of  Alexandrianism, 
TEe_ieach-aa...ag:g_of_singular  poetic^ sterilit^^^'iFthe  Alexandrians 
were  but  rarely  great  poets,  at  least  they  cultivated  poetry  with 
taste  and  success.  In  the  following  period,  for  the  first  time,  the 
Greek  world  will  be  seen  to  have  forgotten  almost  wholly  the  Muses 
of  Helicon.. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

POLYBIUS  AND  THE  LAST  ALEXANDRIANS 

1.  Greece  and  Rome.  2.  Polybius ;  his  Life  and  Work.  .3.  Aim  of  Polybius  ; 
his  History  "  General"  and  "  Pragmatic."  4.  Science  in  Polybius.  5.  Art 
in  Polybius.  6.  Conclusion  on  Polybius.  7.  History  after  Polybius. 
8.  Various  Sciences.     9.  Philosophy.     10.  Rhetoric. 

1.  Greece  and  Rome.  —  WhUa^chQlars.aa(lii0^ts_com2osed_ their 
.Jiovksoi  erudition  or  polished  their  yjeraes^. Borne  was  growing  and 

making  ready  for  the  conquest,  of  the_W-Qrld.  Mistress  of  Italy^Treed 
from  all  fear  of  Carthage  by  the  Second  Funic  War,  she  turned  toward 
the  Orient ;  and  in  the  first  half  of  the  second  century^  she  slowly  laid 
her  hand  onXfreece,  which  became  a  E,oman  province  in  146.  The 
same  year,  Carthage  finally  succumbed.  Then  the  Greek  kingdoms" 
of  the  Orient,  one  after  another,  gave  way  before  the  legions,  until 
at  last,  in  31  b.c,  Egypt  lost  her  independence.  The  whole  civilized 
world  was  now  Roman.  The  conquest  of  the  Greek  world  by  Home 
had  been  gradual  and  steady  ;  but  it  was  of  sufficient  importance  to 
have  an  effect  on  Greek  literature.  From  the  beginning  of  the  period, 
Folybius  had  measured  with  profound  scrutiny  the  power  of  the  ris- 
ing Empire,  and  thereby  renewed  history.  If  mathematical  and  phys- 
ical sciences,  grammar,  and~pTiTToTogy,  owing  to  their  nature,  escaped 
the  external  influences  and  remained  what  they  were  before,  philoso- 
phy and  rhetoric  were  modified  by  contact  with  Roman  ideals.  In 
short,  the  whole  epoch  was  a  period  of  transition.  Greek  spirit,  in 
the  face  of  the  new  civilization  and  the  powerful,  original  political 
organization,  awoke  from  its  quietude,  asked  itself  questions  concern- 
ing its  own  weal,  and  in  the  end,  submitted  to  the  influence  of  its 
masters,  despite  itself,  or  perhaps  unconsciously. 

2.  Polybiug,;  his  Life  and  Work.  — Folybius  is  not  only  the  great- 
est mstOrTrtfiof  the  period,  but  one  of  the  greatest  of  all  time,  one  of 
those  in  whose  hands  history  underwent  an  important  stage  in  its 
evoluticm.  Though  a  writer  of  the  second  order,  he  is,  in  his  con- 
ception of  history  and  in  the  force  of  mind  with  which  he  realized  it, 
tlie  equal  of  Herodotus  and  Thucydides.^ 

1  Editions  by  Diibner,  Didot  Collection,  1839;  Hultsch,  Berlin.  18fi7-1871  ; 
Dindorf-Biittner-Wobst,  Teubner,  1882. 

Frencli  translation  by  F.  Bnuchot,  Paris,  1847.  Ensjlish  translation  by 
E.  S.  Shuckburgli,  2  vols..  London  and  New  York,  1889. 

Consult :  Fustel  de  Coulaiis;es,  Polybe,  ou  la  Grece  conquisr  par  les  liomains^ 
thesis  of  1858. 

2  H  465 


466  Ghreek  Literature 

He  was  the  son  of  Lycortas,  who,  as  friend  and  disciple  of  Philo- 
poemen,  after  the  latter's  death  in  183,  became  general  of  the  Achaean 
League.  Polybius  was  born  at  Megalopolis  in  Arcadia,  probably 
between  210  and  205.  He  had  the  honor  of  bringing  back  the  ashes 
of  Philopoemen  in  183,  when  the  hero  had  fallen  a  victim  to  the 
Messenians.  In  the  following  years,  together  with  his  father,  he 
was  associated  in  speech  and  military  action  with  all  the  political 
life  of  the  League.  During  the  struggle  between  Rome  and  Macedon 
(171-168),  his  attitude  was  one  of  prudent  reserve  with  regard  to 
Rome,  notwithstanding  the  opposition  of  the  democratic  party, 
which  ardently  sought  the  support  of  the  senate.  After  the  final 
defeat  of  Perseus,  Polybius  was  one  of  the  thousand  hostages,  all 
aristocrats,  which  the  League  delivered  to  the  Romans.  At  Rome 
h§  forJinedJiig.^^f  fri^dshi2_wi^h^j;abittfi_.^lii-Seipio,  the  sons  of 
Paullus  ^Emilius.  „0\ving  to  these  relations,  he  was  allowed_to_  reside 
at  Rome  itself,  instead  of  being  sent,  like  the  other  hostages,  into 
some  Italian  municipality.  He  was  forty  years  of  age  at  the  time. 
His  familiarity  with  one  of  the  most  illustrious  families  of  the  Roman 
aristocracy  brought  him  into  touch  with  all  the  Roman  politicians 
of  consequence.  He  could  study  at  first  hand  the  government  of 
the  republic  when  it  was  at  the  very  zenith  of  its  splendor.  He 
found  in  it  all  that  his  serious,  reflective  spirit  had  failed  with 
regret  to  find  in  his  own  country — a  well-to-do  aristocracy,  a  strong 
organization,  and  conformity  with  discipline  and  morality.  These 
doubled  the  effect  of  its  material  forces.  He  devoted  himself  wholly 
to  obseTv:atiQ]U)l_this_iiew  world,  wliich  he  was^betteFlTBre  than  any 
one  else  to  understand  and  appreciate.  In  150,  with  the  other  hos- 
tages, he  obtained  the  right  to  return  to  his  own  country.  He 
availed  himself  of  the  privilege,  but  often  came  back  to  Rome,  his 
adopted  fatherlan(^  In  14G  he  was  with  Scipio  in  Africa.  He 
tried  without  success  to  prevent  the  final  revolution  of  Greece ;  yet 
he  won  at  least  the  gratitude  of  his  countrymen  by  useful  inter- 
cession in  their  favor  after  their  defeat.  Tla^_second  x^art.-of  his 
life  was  occupied  by  the  composition  of  his  work  and  by  numerous 
travels  to  Libya,  >Spaiu,  and  Gaul.  He  died  at  the  age  of  eighty -two, 
consequently  about  125,  owing  to  a  fall  from  a  horse.. 

He  wrote  a  Life  of  Philopfrmen,  a  Treatise  on  Tactics,  and  an 
account  of  the  Capture  of  Xnniantia,  to-day  all  lost.  His  chief  work 
was  his  great  Ilistorif  ('lo-Toptat)  in  .forty__bookS;  giving  the  history  of 
the  world  during  the  seventy -five  years  from  the  beginning  of  the 
Second  Punic  War  (221)  to  the  capture  of  Corinth  (146).  This 
account  begins  only  with  the  third  book,  the  first  two  being 
occupied  with  an  introduction,  in  which  he  treats  briefly  the  events 


Polyhius  and  the  Last  Alexandrians  467 

that  took  place  after  264,  the  date  to  which  Timaeus  brought  down 
his  work.  The  History,  then,  really  begins  with  the  First  Punic 
War.  The  main  epoch  treated  is  that  during  which  Rome,  in  less 
than  fifty-three  years  (221-168)  brought  under  her  sway,  as  Poly  bins 
says,^  "almost  the  whole  inhabitable  world."  But  the  ample  picture 
has  not  been  preserved  intact.  The  first  five  books  are  complete, 
and  reach  the  battle  of  Cannae ;  of  the  next  thirteen  books,  we  have 
long  extracts;  but  of  the  last  twenty-four,  we  have  only  some  frag- 
ments, very  unequal  in  importance  and  extent. 

3.  Aim  of  Polybius ;  his  History  * '  General ' '  and  ♦ '  Pragmatic. "  —  The 
nature  of  the  events  he  recorded  seemed  to  him  to  demand  a  new  form 
of  exposition.  Till  then,  history  had  been  "  particular,"  as  the  his- 
torians gave  the  account  of  each  city  or  state  by  itself,  because  each 
had  lived  in  isolation  and  came  in  touch  with  the  others  only  by 
accident.  He  saw,  however,  that  now  all  the  particular  histories 
joined  each  other  and  interlaced.  The  world  lived  a  common  life,  was 
interested  in  the  same  struggles  and  dominated  by  one  and  the  same 
policy.'  Like  a  heart  in  the  great  organism,  Rome  was  everywhere 
operative.  So  history  needed  to  become  "  general."  The  problem 
was  not  that  of  composing  a  series  of  particular  histories,  but  that  of 
showing  the  unity  of  all  the  apparently  incoherent  facts  whose  theatre 
extended  over  the  whole  inhabitable  world.  These  facts  all  tended 
toward  the  sa,me  goal,  the  final  triumph  of  the  power  of  Rome.^ 

He  wished  to  write  also  a  "pragmatic"  work,  devoted  to  the 
precise  and  almost  technical  exposition  of  politics  and  war,  which 
form  the  material  of  history.  For  most  historians,  the  composition 
of  history  was  office- work,  for  which  erudition  and  eloquence  sufficed. 
Thus  it  had  been  treated  by  Timaeus,  the  most  celebrated  of  all,  and 
that  sufficed  for  the  public  which  applauded  him.  Such  a  conception 
of  history  seemed  to  Polybius  false  and  ridiculous.  The  historian, 
doubtless,  must  know  books ;  but  above  all,  he  must  understand  poli- 
tics and  war.  His  great  function  is  to  bring  to  statesmen  the  infor- 
mation they  need.  This  cannot  be  done  with  fine  phrases  nor  by 
diligent  research  into  mythology.  Concrete  things  are  tlie  material, 
and  they  must  be  treated  with  seriousness  and  precision  —  with 
"  metliod."  ^  If  one  should  thus  seem  "  severe  and  monotonous  "  to 
certain  readers,  so  much  the  greater  the  fault  of  the  readers.  The 
essential  thing  is  to  win  the  approbation  of  critical  minds,  wlio  seek 
in  liistory  practical,  effective  lessons.  These  ideas  are  enunciated 
again  and  again.''  Their  importance  and  novelty  were  evident. 
Surrounded  by  rhetoricians  and  incompetent  scholars,  Polybius  imi- 

1  Polyb.  I,  1,  5.  3  Me£'o5tKcD5.  IX,  2,  5. 

2  Ihid.  3-4.  <  See  especially  IX,  1-2. 


468  Greek  Literature 

tated  the  manner  of  Thiicydides  ;  and  his  application  of  that  manner 
to  his  theme  is  well  worthy  of  our  admiration. 

4.  Science  in  Polybius.  —  The  scientific  value  of  his  work  is  ex- 
tremely high,  owing  both  to  a  profound  technical  preparation,  and 
to  a  really  philosophic  general  culture. 

Politics  and  war  —  the  things  of  which  he  spoke  —  he  compre- 
hended thoroughly.  As  we  have  seen,  he  had  written  a  special 
technical  treatise  on  tactics.  He  had  personally  taken  part  in  poli- 
tics, before  conversing  about  it  with  elite  Roman  statesmen.  To  get 
an  idea  of  the  theatre  in  which  the  events  took  place,  he  made 
numerous  geographical  travels;  after  the  comprehension  of  the 
things,  the  knowledge  of  the  places  was,  in  his  opinion,  the  most 
important  of  the  qualities  useful  for  the  historian.  Not  only  had  he 
visited  as  a  soldier  or  merchant  the  greater  part  of  Greece  and  Italy, 
Egypt  and  Sicily,  but  he  made  real  journeys  of  exploration  into 
Libya,  Iberia,  and  the  parts  of  Gaul  near  the  Ocean.  He  scoured 
the  Alps  that  he  might  understand  the  route  of  Hannibal.  He  counts 
himself  happy,  in  one  passage,  because  the  conquests  of  Alexander, 
and  afterward  those  of  Rome,  had  brought  about  the  unity  of  the 
world,  and  so  made  travel,  if  not  easy,  at  least  possible.^  He  had 
read  the  writings  of  his  predecessors;  without  believing  that  erudi- 
tion could  displace  all  else,  he  did  not  scorn  erudition.  His  work 
abounds  in  names  of  men  who  had  treated  the  same  subjects  before 
him.  He  consulted  archives  and  sometimes  cited  documents  in 
eztenso.  The  use  he  made  of  a  bronze  tablet  at  Lacinium  in  estimat- 
ing the  condition  of  Hannibal's  forces  is  remarkable.^ 

He  used  his  sources  critically  and  impartially.  His  criticism  was 
chiefly  that  of  sound  judgment  illuminated  by  the  direct  study  of 
materials ;  an  account  of  a  battle  presenting  impossible  circumstances 
he  rejected  without  hesitation,  whatever  the  authority  of  the  author  ; 
and  he  excelled  in  distinguishing  the  possible  from  the  impossible. 
His  impartiality  was  based  upon  full  knowledge.  "  In  ordinary 
life,"'  he  says,  "  certain  prejudices  are  permissible.  .  .  .  But  when 
a  man  assumes  the  character  of  historian,  he  must  forget  his  personal 
sentiments,  must  often  praise  and  extol  his  enemies  or  convict  of 
error  and  pursue  with  severe  reproaches  those  wliom  he  loves  best."  '' 
This  policy  he  carried  ovit  with  admirable  courage.  As  a  man,  he 
was  devoted  to  his  countrymen  under  all  circumstances;  as  a  histo- 
rian, he  censures  their  faults  and  errors,  with  melancholy  but  clear 
insight,  and  severely. 

Aside  from  these  qualities,  indispensable  for  every  historian 
worth  the  name,  he  had  others  of  a  still  higher  order,  which  give  his 
1  rolyb.  Ill,  58  and  59.  "^  Ibid.  Ill,  33.  «  Ibid.  I,  14,  4-3. 


Polyhius  and  the  Last  Alexandrians  469 

work  its  personal  character.     He  had  a  profoundly  philosophic  spirit. 

Though  not  specially  Stoic,  Peripatetic,  or  Platonic  —  belonging  to 
no  sect  —  his  thought  was  influenced  and  completely  permeated  by 
the  essentials  of  Greek  philosophy,  or,  if  one  chooses,  of  Greek  learn- 
ing. He  believed  that,  like  all  knowledge,  history  has  for  its  prin- 
cipal object  the  explanation  of  facts,  the  discovery  of  causes  —  not 
the  first  cause,  which  some  seek  in  the  will  of  the  gods  and  others 
in  chance ;  but  the  secondary  causes,  which  alone  are  really  acces- 
sible to  the  historian  and  alone  useful  for  the  statesman.  To  begin 
with,  one  must  understand  what  constitutes  a  cause  (atna),  and  not 
confound,  like  so  many  historians,  the  cause  of  a  historic  event  with 
the  accident  that  was  its  occasion  (Trpo'c^ao-ts),  or  its  point  of  depar- 
ture {a.pxn)'  A.  cause  is  connected  with  its  effect  by  logical  necessity. 
The  will  of  individuals  often  is  a  cause ;  the  policy  of  Hamilcar,  for 
example,  was  an  important  element  in  bringing  about  the  Second 
Punic  War.  But  the  most  important  causes,  those  that  have  the 
most  lasting,  most  extensive  influence,  are  not  individual.  More 
than  any  of  his  predecessors,  he  insisted  on  general  causes :  the  cus- 
toms and  traditions  of  cities,  and  particularly  their  military  organi- 
zation and  political  institutions,  which  seemed  to  be,  in  the  words  of 
Isocrates,  the  "  soul  of  states."  The  profound  researches  of  Aristotle 
and  his  school  concerning  the  constitutions  of  Greek  and  foreign  cities 
had  popularized  this  conception,  which  is  found  even  in  Herodotus 
and  particularly  in  Thucydides.  But  Polybius  was  the  first  to  assign 
it  a  preponderating  influence  in  history.  His  studies  of  the  consti- 
tutions of  Sparta,  Carthage,  and  Rome  became  classic  and  were 
admirable  monuments  of  sound,  though  novel,  science.  He  wrote 
likewise  on  the  military  organization  of  the  liomans.  He  was  not 
free  from  error,  notably  a  rationalistic  prejudice  which  saw  in  a  con- 
stitution the  work  of  some  almost  superhuman  legislator,  some 
mature  philosopher,  who  worked  freely  and  with  fulness  of  knowl- 
edge in  the  realm  of  human  society,  as  Plato  fashioned  the  elements 
of  his  ideal  city.  His  Lycurgus,  for  example,  is  too  much  a  theorist 
of  politics.  These  imperfections  are  inevitable,  the  mark  of  the 
time,  and  the  necessary  price  of  great  progress.  They  take  away 
nothing  from  the  justness  of  detail  or  the  profundity  of  the  general 
conception. 

Anotlier  essential  element  of  his  philosophy  of  history  is  the  bold- 
ness with  which  he  embraces  in  a  general  view  the  entire  development 
of  the  great  nations  and  cities  that  he  studied.  He  knew  well 
that  institutions  are  not  fixed,  that  a  city  passes  successively  from 
one  political  form  to  another,  and  tliat  such  great  organisms  are  born, 
live,  and  die.     He  knew  the  regular  rhythm,  so  to  speak,  of  those 


470  Greek  Literature 

changes,  and  took  careful  note  of  the  stage  which  each  city  had 
reached  at  the  time  when  he  studied  it,  in  order  to  estimate  its 
vital  power.  At  the  time  of  the  war  with  Hannibal,  Rome  was  in 
the  fulness  of  its  maturity,  Carthage  in  its  decline.  Hence  there 
was  necessarily  a  difference  in  the  place  to  be  assigned  to  them, 
though  they  seemed  ever  so  much  alike.  This  inevitable  law  of 
evolution  (dvaKiiKAwats)  ^  is  applicable  to  all  peoples :  Rome  herself 
cannot  escape  it;  she  is  flourishing  to-day,  but  already  the  germs 
of  decline  are  operative  within  her ;  and  the  day  will  come  that  will 
achieve  the  overthrow  of  the  constitution  that  has  been  her  strength.^ 
Evidently  Polybius  lays  himself  open  here  to  criticism.  Historical 
laws  sometimes  seemed  to  him  to  have  a  character  too  simple,  too 
rigorous  —  too  "  mechanical,"  in  the  words  of  Fenelon.  It  is  never- 
theless true  that  his  vigorous  effort  to  master  the  details  of  fact  and 
classify  contingencies  under  a  superior  necessity,  is  often  as  clear- 
sighted as  it  is  bold.  He  is  almost  always  right.  Through  believing 
in  the  empire  of  historical  laws,  he  became  almost  a  prophet.  Even 
if  one  is  tempted  to  dispute  certain  of  his  prophecies,  one  cannot  but 
admire  the  lofty  serenity  of  his  spirit,  and  his  profound  faith  in 
science  (dcwpui),  so  often  justified  by  the  facts. 

The  scientific  character  of  his  history  is  no  less  manifest  in  his 
bold  reform  of  the  processes  of  exposition.  He  rejected  discourses, 
—  not  merely  frivolous,  oratorical  harangues  in  the  manner  of 
Timaeus,  which  had  nothing  in  common  with  historical  truth  nor 
even  with  good  sense,  —  but  also  direct  speeches  in  the  manner 
of  Thucydides,  which  are  true  with  a  general,  philosophic  truthful- 
ness, but  false  in  form.  He  found  the  misrepresentation  in  form 
distasteful.  Like  modern  writers,  he  limited  himself  to  an  analysis 
in  the  form  of  direct  discourse  when  dealing  with  the  counsels  of 
statesmen.  The  historians  of  his  time  took  pleasure  in  mytho- 
logical digressions,  oddities  of  erudition,  and  ingenious  pretended 
etymologies.  He  swept  away  these  vain  ornaments  with  the  same 
resolution  as  the  discourses.  His  accounts  have  precision  and  ful- 
ness ;  he  takes  careful  note  of  time,  though  sometimes,  wrongly, 
deriding  the  minute  calculations  of  Timtcus.  He  describes  fully 
his  localities  and  studies  his  institutions  at  length;  in  short,  he  is 
adequate,  not  only  in  prefaces,  according  to  the  usage  of  the  time, 
but  also  in  the  course  of  the  exj)Osition,  whenever  he  deems  it  well 
to  clear  up  some  idea  or  important  fact. 

5.  The  Art  of  Polybius.  —  Unfortunately  his  art  is  not  on  so  high 
a  plane  as  his  science.  His  style  is  really  bad,  and  his  composition, 
though  much  superior,  presents  grave  defects. 

1  Polyb.  VI.  9,  10.  2  jiij^  VI,  58. 


Polyhius  and  the  Last  Alexandnans  471 

His  essential  fault  is  due,  not  to  a  negligence  that  would  be 
excusable  m  a  man  oi'  action  and  might  prove  to  be  a  merit,  but  to 
an  attemj)t  at  fine  writing.  He  does  not  know  what  good  style"is7 
His  vocabulary,  though  taken  from  the  current  speech  of  the  edu- 
cated classes,  is  overcharged  with  abstract,  technical  terms.  Instead 
of  avoiding  them,  he  apparently  delights  in  them.  He  loves  useless, 
pretentious,  awkward  jargon.  What  is  worse,  he  abounds  in  vague, 
inexpressive  terms,  epithets  suitable  to  none  because  applicable  to 
almost  all  —  such  as  the  adjective  oAocrxep^s  (considerable,  impor- 
tant), of  which  he  made  great  misuse,  or  irpoiLp-qfxivo';  (aforesaid) 
which  he  employs  constantly.  His  sentences  are  long  and  prolix, 
not  by  accident,  but  by  choice.  He  aims  at  fulness  and  oratorical 
rliythm.  He  expects  to  attain  this  by  using  two  words  where  one 
would  suffice,  and  by  lengthening  his  sentences  to  half  a  page.  He 
avoids  hiatus  as  a  true  disciple  of  Isocrates  ;  but  the  scruple  appears 
like  affectation  amid  so  many  faults. 

His  invention  is  better.  His  mind  is  sound  and  can  explain 
things  with  precision  or  mark  with  exactness  the  sequence  of  events. 
His  narratives  are  clear,  even  though  not  vivid  nor  picturesque.  As 
his  dissertations  are  managed  with  skill,  their  laek  of  imagination  is 
less  noticeable.  So  at  times  he  enlivens  them  with  eloquence  or 
clever  witticisms.  But  he  has  too  abundant  dissertation.  It  is  his 
hobby.  He  is  always  breaking  the  narrative  to  insert  his  opinion. 
A  professor  noT^oIitics  and  military  art,  he  constantly  pours  forth 
instruction.  His  dictum  is  generally  proper  and  judicious,  yet 
uncalled  for. 

6.  Conclusion  on  Polybius.  —  He  has  been  judged  very  diversely. 
A  purist  in  rlietoric  like  Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus  would  probably 
be  offended  with  his  style  and  fail  to  see  his  merit.  A  precise  critic 
like  Fenelon,  though  according  him  better  justice,  would  be  pained  to 
find  him  so  prolix,  so  attached  to  formulas.  On  the  contrary,  philo- 
sophical historians  like  Bossuet  or  Montesquieu  have  honored  him 
more  fully,  and  profited  by  his  precept  and  example.  They  are  more 
nearly  right  than  the  others.  If  one  is  ready  to  say  that  a  historian's 
first  duty  is  not  so  much  to  charm  as  to  instruct,  then  their  action  is 
to  be  commended.  Polybius  is  not  an  artist,  and  so  differs  from  what 
one  exjtects  in  a  (rreek  historian.  But  he  is  one  of  three  or  four  in 
antiquity  wlio  caused  history  to  make  rapid  and  })ermanent  ad- 
vances. His  conception  of  the  part  in  the  life  of  a  peoj)le  played  by 
customs  and  institutions  is  truly  ingenious.  His  api)lieation  of  it  is 
clever.  On  the  ])0wer  of  Rome  or  the  decadence  of  Greece,  he  liolds 
opinions  that  show  deep  insight  on  his  part  and  that  are  aj)plicable 
far  beyond  the  objects  to  which  he  applies  them.     One  feels  con- 


472  Greek  Literature 

stantly  in  reading  him  that,  in  the  study  of  particular  facts,  he 
brings  one  face  to  face  with  reality.  His  account  of  Hannibal's 
march  from  Spain  into  Italy  is,  on  the  whole,  of  great  clearness,  as 
compared  with  that  of  Livy.  Livy  is  more  picturesque,  dramatic, 
and  amusing.  He  is  really  an  imitator  of  Polybius,  but  much  less 
satisfactory  in  detail,  less  able,  and  less  intelligible. 

7.  History  after  Polybius.  —  The  genius  of  Polybius  went  so  far 
beyond  the  spirit  of  his  time  that,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  he  had  no 
pupils  nor  imitators.  With  his  successors,  we  return  to  the  erudite, 
eccentric,  uncritical  manner  of  the  Alexandrians.  We  do  not  know 
the  writers  well.  Hence  we  merely  mention  them  without  empha- 
sis. Apollodorus  of  Athens  lived  at  Pergamon  under  Attains  II, 
and  was  chiefly  a  mythographer.  His  chief  work  was  a  Histoi'y 
of  the  Gods  (Ilc/al  ^cwv)  in  twenty-four  books,  a  vast  collection 
of  all  the  legends  found  in  poets  and  historians.  Metrodorus  of 
Scepsis  (middle  of  the  third  century),  a  scholar  and  rhetorician,  was 
the  author  of  a  history  of  Tigranes.  Artemidorus  of  Ephesus,  his 
contemporary,  wrote  a  Geography  which  was  one  of  the  sources  of 
Strabo.  Alexander  of  Miletus,  surnamed  Polyhistor  —  the  Student 
or  the  Scholar  —  came  to  Rome  as  a  prisoner  of  war  under  Sulla,  and 
was  liberated  by  Lentulus.  He  was  a  prolific,  erudite  compiler,  treat- 
ing stories  of  the  marvellous,  the  succession  of  philosophers,  and 
the  manners  and  customs  of  the  Orient,  particularly  of  the  Jews. 
Castor  of  Rhodes,  in  the  same  period,  wrote  a  chronological  res'ime 
(XpovLKo),  which  pretended  to  give  the  date  of  all  reigns  and  of  all 
eponymous  magistrates  from  Ninus  to  Pompey. 

8.  Various  Sciences.  —  The  mathematicians,  medical  writers,  natu- 
ralists, grammarians,  and  philologists  are  of  no  greater  importance. 
We  are  on  the  extreme  borders  of  literature,  and  even  the  works 
that  were  produced  have  disappeared.  Only  two  or  three  names 
can  find  place  in  this  review. 

The  mathematician  Hippar^hns  of  Nicsea  in  Bithynia  lived  in 
the  middle  of  the  second  century,  perhaps  mostly  at  Rhodes.  He 
was  the  greatest  gistronomer  of  antiquity.  Although  coming  after 
Aristarchus  of  Samot!rrace,Tie  committed  the  error  of  continuing  to 
consider  the  earth  as  the  centre  of  the  universe.  But  his  studies  of 
the  movements  of  the  stars  and  their  distances  from  the  earth  are 
the  work  of  an  able  mind.  He  added  to  mathematics  proper  by  the 
invention  of  trigonometry';  and  he  improved  map-drawing.  Hero  of 
Alexandria  (beginning  of  the  first  century)  wrote  treatises  On  Draft- 
liif/  Instniments  and  On  Automatons.  His  works  are  interesting,  and 
still  in  existence. 

In  grammar,  the  great  name  of  the  period  is  that  of  Dionysius 


Polyhius  and  the  Last  Alexandrians  473 

Thrax,  who  was  born  at  Alexandria  about  the  middle  of  the  second 
century.  He  came  of  a  Thracian  family.  He  was  a  pupil  of  Aris- 
taichus,  and  the  first  to  attempt  presenting  as  a  whole  the  science  of 
grammar,  which  had  been  unorganized  till  then.  His  Grammar  had 
prodigious  success ;  for  twelve  centuries  it  was  reproduced,  com- 
mented upon,  abridged,  amplified,  and  translated.  We  have  some 
revisions  and  partial  translations.^  Tyrannio  the  Elder,  his  disciple, 
is  famous  chiefly  for  his  revision  of  the  unedited  works  of  Aristotle, 
which  Sulla  had  just  brought  to  Rome. 

The  chief  representative  of  philology  was  Didymus,  born  at 
Alexandria  and  surnamed  XoXkcVtcpos,  *'the  Bronze  Constitution," 
because  of  his  prodigious  literary  activity.  Apparently  he  died  in 
the  time  of  Augustus,  after  having  embodied  in  a  multitude  of 
writings  the  results  of  his  researches  on  all  subjects  connected  with 
philology.  When  one  has  commended  his  untiring  energy  and 
intense  labor,  it  seems  that  sufficient  emphasis  has  been  laid  on  his 
memory. 

9.  Philosophy.  —  The  philosophy  of  the  period  is  more  interest- 
ing. At  least  two  remarkable  names,  Panaetius  and  Posidonius,  are 
found. 

Panaetius,  born  at  Rhodes  in  the  second  quarter  of  the  second 
century,  a  disciple  of  Crates  of  Mallos,  lived  for  a  long  time  at 
Rome  in  the  circle  of  the  Scipios,  where  he  formed  the  acquaintance 
of  Polybius.  A  Stoic,  though  not  rigid,  he  was  almost  an  Eclectic. 
In  his  style,  unlike  the  rigid  Stoics,  he  aimed  to  please  ordinary 
people.  We  can  no  longer  read  his  treatises,  On  Duty  {Yitpl  tov 
KaOrJKovTO'i),  On  Providence,  and  On  Politics  ;  but  we  know  the  favor 
with  which  they  were  regarded  by  Cicero,  and  how  much  he  imitated 
tliem.  It  is  hardly  to  be  doubted  that  the  elegant  moderation  of 
Panaetius  owed  something  to  the  influence  of  the  originality  of  the 
Scipios,  the  patrons  of  wdsdom  and  good  grace. 

Posidonius  of  Apamea  in  Syria  was  the  pupil  of  Pansetius.  He 
also  came  to  Rome,  but  lived  chiefl}^  at  Rhodes,  whitlier  Cicero, 
Pompey,  and  other  illustrious  Romans  went  to  hear  liini.  As  a 
philosopher,  philologist,  historian,  and  geographer,  lie  liad  an  im- 
mense reputation.  His  treatise  On  Duti/  had  considerable  influence 
over  Cicero.  His  History  was  a  continuation  of  that  of  Polybius. 
His  work  On  the  Ocean  was  the  result  of  personal  explorations,  and 
added  sonTething  to  the  geographical  knowledge  of  his  time.  He 
was,  ill  short,  a  highly  cultivated  man. 

The  Epicurean  Philodemus  of  Gadara,  Avho  also  lived  in  the 
tiiPiC  of  Cicero,  merits  mention  only  because  the  discoveries  at  Her- 
1  Text  edited  by  Ulilig,  Leipsic,  1883. 


474  Greek  Literature 

culaneum  have  given  us  a  large  number  of  mediocre  writings  by 
him.  As  for  ^nesidemus,  wliose  works  have  perished,  his  name  is 
well  known  on  account  of  his  attempt,  made  about  this  time,  to 
reorganize  the  school  of  Pyrrho.  His  Pyrrhonian  Discoiirses 
(HvpptLviioL  Xoyoi),  in  eight  books,  are  often  cited  by  the  ancients. 

10.  Rhetoric.  —  Like  philosophy,  rhetoric  shows  a  tendency  to 
innovation,  liut  here,  too,  brilliant  names  and  lasting  works  are 
wanting.  It  is  not  till  somewhat  later  that  the  reaction  against  the 
bad  taste  of  Hegesias  was  to  have  notable  results  with  Csecilius  of 
Calacte  and  Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus.  For  the  present,  we  are 
only  at  the  beginning  of  the  movement.  Under  the  influence  of  the 
school  of  Pergamon,  which  was  much  devoted  to  the  study  of  Attic 
writers,  and  under  that  of  Rome,  which  brought  all  minds  capable 
of  reflection  to  seriousness,  a  reaction  against  the  daintiness  and  fine 
writing  of  the  old  rhetoric  of  Asia  began  to  make  itself  felt.  Some 
returned  to  the  Atticism  of  Lysias  ;  others,  the  New  Asiatics,  trying, 
no  doubt,  to  imitate  Isocrates,  produced  a  verbose,  inflated  elo- 
quence ;  still  others  tried  to  follow  a  medium  course,  patterning 
after  the  style  of  Hyperides.  The  last  group,  headed  by  a  certain 
Menecles  of  Alabanda,  was  brought  into  prominence  chiefly  by  Apol- 
lonius  and  Molo,  who  taught  at  Rhodes.^  Cicero  was  a  pupil  of 
Molo.  We  no  longer  have  any  of  Molo's  writings;  but  his  literary 
career,  owing  chiefly  to  his  illustrious  pupil,  is  still  somewhat  defi- 
nitely known. 

We  have  come  upon  the  names  of  the  Scipios,  Pompey,  and  Cicero 
rather  often  in  our  study  of  this  period.  It  is  a  sign  that  we  are 
neariug  the  end  of  the  transition,  and  about  to  enter  upon  a  new 
phase  of  activity.  This  corresponds  to  the  literary,  as  well  as  the 
political,  primacy  of  Rome,  which  had  become  the  capital  of  the 
civilized  world. 

1  Polybius  was  himself  son  of  Molo.  and  tbe  second  Molo  was  also  called 
Apollonius.     Hence  arise  certain  confusions  that  must  be  guarded  against. 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

FROM  AUGUSTUS  TO   DOMITIAN 

1.  General  View  of  the  Imperial  Period.  2.  Character  of  Greek  Literature 
from  Augustus  to  Domitian.  3.  Greek  Historical  Writing  at  Rome. 
Diodorus  Siculus.  4.  Later  Historical  Writing.  Dionysius  of  Halicar- 
nassus.  Strabo.  Lesser  Historians.  5.  Jewish  History  under  the  Flavian 
Emperors.  Flavins  Josephus.  6.  Philosophy.  Pythagoreans  and  Stoics. 
First  Efforts  of  Neo-Platonism :  Phllo  the  Jew.  7.  Grammar,  Rhetoric, 
and  Literary  Criticism.  Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus  and  Csecilius.  8.  Poetry 
in  the  First  Century. 

1.  General  View  of  the  Imperial  Period.^  —  With,  or  shortly  before, 
the  establishment  of  the  Empire,  at  about  the  middle  of  the  first 
century  b.c,  the  last  period  of  Greek  literature  opens.  It  continues 
till  the  reign  of  Justinian,  or  even  later;  for  it  is  as  difficult  to 
assign  a  precise  final  limit  as  to  fix  a  definite  beginning.  It  is  an 
epoch,  consequently,  of  more  than  seven  centuries.  Let  us  note 
briefly  a  few  of  its  leading  traits,  that  we  may  discover  its  principal 
divisions. 

The  first  century  of  the  Empire,  from  Augustus  to  Domitian,  is, 
from  the  point  of  view  of  Hellenism,  almost  barren  of  original  works. 
Owing  to  the  destruction  of  the  Hellenic  kingdoms  and  their  absorp- ^ 
tion  into  Rome,  Greek  life  no  longer  had  an  abiding-place,  so  to 
speak,  though  it  was  partly  transplanted  to  Rome  and  flourished 
there.     The  century  may  be  regarded  as  a  period  of  transition. 

With  the  advent  of  the  Flavian  emperors,  fondness  for  literature 
was  once  more  shown  in  the  Greek  world  by  the  rapid  development 
of  a  form  of  oratory  known  as  sophistic.  There  appeared  also  a 
moral  and  religious  philosophy  of  considerable  importance.  Thus 
there  was  a  renaissance  which  occupied  the  second  century.  It  was 
completed  in  the  third  by  the  establishment  of  the  Neo-Platonism 
of  Plotinus  and  Porphyry,  through  which  Hellenism  was  crystallized 
into  a  body  of  doctrines  opposing  the  widening  influence  of  Chris- 
tianity. 

TFe  beginning  of  the  fourth  century  and  the  reign  of  Constantine 
mark  the  advent  of  a  third  and  final  period,  which  continues  for 

^  Consult  on  the  whole  period  :  Duruy,  Jlistoire  des  liomains.  vols.  Ill-Vn  ; 
and  Hertzberg,  Die  Geschichte  Griechenlands  xinter  der  Herrschaft  der  Homer, 
3  vols.,  Halle,  1806-1875. 

475 


; 


476  Greek  Literature 

about  three  centuries  to  the  limit  above  indicated.  It  is  character- 
ized by  the  rapid  ^extension  and  triumph  of  Christianity,  which, 
turning  to  profit  the  culture  of  Hellenism,  made  it  flourish  anew 
in  the  fourth  century,  and  then  left  it  slowly  to  degenerate  and 
perish. 

2.  Character  of  Greek  Literature  from  Augustus  to  Domitian.  —  Of 
these  three  periods,  the  first  is  naturally  that  upon  which  we  shall 
place  the  least  emphasis.  No  really  superior  writer  is  to  be  found. 
Rome  had  become  the  centre  of  the  world ;  the  most  intelligent  and 
active  Greeks  came  there  to  live,  or  at  least  resided  there  most  of 
the  time.  Many  of  them  were  in  the  service  of  emperors  or  senators, 
and  devoted  themselves  principally  to  the  forms  of  literature  best 
suited  to  interest  their  patrons.  The  literature  of  imagination  and 
poesy  was  reduced  to  mediocre  importance.  There  was  no  use  for 
oratory ;  it  was  confined  to  the  schools.  Still,  all  that  was  of  practi- 
cal utility  found  encouragement  and  favor.  There  arose  historical 
and  geographical  works,  generally  encyclopaedic  in  character,  whose 
chief  object  was  to  bring  together  scattered  information.  Criticism 
of  ancient  texts,  with  all  the  needful  grammatical  sciences,  made 
progress.  Philosophy,  in  its  more  practical  forms,  was  certain  to 
have  auditors  and  readers.  There  was  more  toil  than  genius,  more 
assiduity  than  invention.  We  shall  meet  with  names  that  cannot 
be  ignored  and  works  that  are  often  cited ;  but,  on  the  whole,  nothing 
worthy  of  more  than  passing  mention. 

3.  Greek  Historical  Writing  at  Rome.  Diodorus  Siculus.^  —  Let  us 
begin  with  historical  writing,  the  literary  form  then  most  in  favor. 

The  first  of  the  historians  is  Diodorus  Siculus.  No  other  adheres 
more  closely  to  the  spirit  of  the  preceding  period.  A  summarizer 
of  the  earlier  historians,  it  would  not  be  true  to  say  that  he  imitated 
them ;  in  reality,  his  work  has  no  existence  apart  from  those  upon 
which  it  is  based.  Born  about  90  b.c.  at  Agyrium  in  Sicily,  he 
devoted  almost  his  whole  life  to  preparation  for  historical  work,  by 
travel,  and  by  study  in  libraries.  He  made  numerous  long  visits  to 
Rome,  where,  he  tells  us,  he  found  the  necessary  scientific  resources 
for  the  great  enterprise  to  which  he  devoted  himself.  His  thirty 
years  of  elaboration  extend  roui,'hly  from  4G0  to  430.  Apparently, 
his  work  was  finished  and  published  in  the  early  years  of  the  reign 

1  Editions  :  Dindorf.  5  vols..  Leipsic,  Teubner,  1806-1868  ;  Fr.  Vogel, 
5  vols..  Leipsic,  Teubner,  1890.  and  years  following.  English  translation  by 
Booth.  London,  1814. 

(Vjnsult :  II.  Estienne.  Brevis  Trnctatus  de  Diodoro  et  eiuK  Srriptis,  in  Din- 
dorf s  edition,  vol.  V ;  Gatterer,  De  Operis  IIi)<torici  a  Diodoro  Compositi 
Of  acre  ac  Virtntihus,  ihid.  ;  Clinton,  Faati  IlellenicU  II.  P-  xxi  ;  G.  Kiessling. 
dissertatiorLs  on  the  sources  of  Diodorus  in  Bhtinisches  Museuin,  1876,  and 
Years  following. 


From  Augustus  to  Domitian  477 

of  Augustus.  It  was  probably  given  to  the  public  under  the  title  of 
a  Library  of  History  (laropiwv  (Si^XioOtjkt]). 

He  proposed  to  unite  in  a  synthetic  exposition  and  in  readily 
accessible  form  the  mass  of  facts  which  his  contemporaries  were 
obliged  to  seek  in  various  works:  every  century  from  the  age  of 
legend  to  his  own  times;  every  people,  barbarian,  Greek,  and 
Roman.  All  the  elements  of  historical  and  geographical  knowledge, 
the  history  of  institutions  and  customs,  and  of  arts  and  letters,  were 
to  have  their  place.  It  was  a  real  encyclopaedia  that  he  proposed 
to  write ;  and  undoubtedly  his  project  had  grandeur  and  a  just  ap- 
preciation of  the  needs  of  the  times. 

In  its  plan,  the  author  wished  to  associate  chronological  order 
with  logical  classification.  Though  taking  care,  in  general,  to  follow 
the  order  of  time  and  to  fix  the  precise  dates  by  means  of  a  concord- 
ance between  the  various  systems  of  chronology  that  had  been  in 
use,  he  refused  to  parcel  out  his  narrative  year  by  year.  He  aimed 
to  divide  it  into  periods  large  enough  to  show  without  interruption 
complete  series  of  events.  This  intention  he  had  conceived  and 
matured  by  reading  Ephorus ;  but  he  had  not  the  power  of  historical 
comprehension  to  realize  it  in  a  wholly  satisfactory  manner.  In  his 
preface  he  gives  us  almost  a  table  of  contents  of  his  Library  (I,  iv, 
6  and  7).  It  was  divided  into  forty  books,  comprising  a  period  of 
1138  years,  without  counting  the  era  preceding  the  Trojan  War, 
when  there  was  no  chronology.  The  forty  books  were  divided 
into  three  groups.  The  first  was  on  the  mythical  period  anterior 
to  the  Trojan  War.  It  comprised  six  books,  three  for  the  primitive 
history  of  the  barbarians,  and  three  for  that  of  the  Greeks.  Of 
these,  we  have  only  the  first  five,  and  some  fragments.  The  second 
group,  from  the  Trojan  War  to  the  death  of  Alexander,  included 
eleven  books,  of  which  seven  have  been  preserved.  They  treat  the 
most  important  period  of  early  ancient  history,  that  from  480  to  323. 
The  third  group,  from  the  death  of  Alexander  to  Caesar's  conquest 
of  Gaul,  had  twenty-three  books.  We  have  only  the  part  on  the 
events  that  occurred  between  323  and  302  —  perhaps  three  books  in 
all.  Hence  only  fifteen  of  the  forty  books  are  extant  —  a  little  more 
than  a  third  of  the  whole. 

For  antiquity,  the  merit  of  this  work  of  popularization  was  that 
it  offered  a  convenient  summary  which  made  direct  reference  to 
the  original  authors  needless.  To  this  fact  was  due  its  renown, 
which  became  greater  as  real  historical  science  declined.  In  the 
I>yzantine  epoch,  he  came  to  be  looked  upon  as  the  most  scholarly 
of  classic  historians,  for  he  was  regarded  as  representing  them  all. 
In  modern  times,  since  the  relish  for  history  and  the  comprehension 


478  Greek  Literature 

of  it  have  been  revived,  though  his  Library  is  still  valuable  for  the 
quantity  of  information  it  preserves,  yet,  considered  from  the  point 
of  view  of  science  or  of  art,  it  merits  severe  censure. 

Tliis  is  chiefly  because  it  does  not  itself  show  evidence  of  critical 
acumen.  For  Diodorus  was  only  a  compiler.  Generally,  if  not 
always,  he  was  content  to  follow  his  authorities  step  by  step  as  he 
abridged  them ;  never,  or  almost  never,  did  he  do  any  original  work, 
or  compare  them  with  one  another.  The  authors  he  preferred  were 
not  necessarily  the  best  informed,  but  those  who,  by  offering  a  narra- 
tive that  was  continuous  and  not  too  far  out  of  proportion  with  his 
plan,  lent  themselves  most  easily  to  his  purpose.  His  worth,  there- 
fore, as  an  authority  in  history,  is  precisely  the  worth  of  these 
authors,  —  with  this  exception  to  his  disadvantage,  that,  in  abridging 
them,  he  may  sometimes  have  altered  their  testimony.  His  chronol- 
ogy, on  which  he  loved  to  pride  himself,  is  a  noteworthy  example  of 
scant  knowledge :  for  it  was  a  mere  juxtaposition  or  superposition 
of  one  system  upon  another,  with  no  thought  as  to  whether  they 
were  in  agreement  or  not. 

Despite  the  apparent  and  superficial  order  above  mentioned, 
there  is  the  same  shortcoming  in  his  interpretation  of  events  and 
in  his  composition.  He  has  no  general  scheme  by  which  to  estab- 
lish homogeneous  groups  of  facts  in  the  universal  history,  nor  any 
idea  of  the  progress  or  decadence  of  peoples,  of  the  causes  which 
bring  them  into  contact,  of  their  mutual  indebtedness,  or  of  the 
march  of  civilization.  The  organization  of  great  empires,  the  devel- 
opment of  the  power  of  Rome,  in  a  word,  the  dominant  facts  which 
eml>race  all  others,  do  not  seem  to  have  impressed  him.  He  lacked 
philosophy.  He  saw  everywhere,  indeed,  the  action  of  Providence  -, 
but,  as  he  conceived  it,  this  action  was  reduced  to  a  puerile  distri- 
bution of  rewards  and  punishments.  He  had,  moreover,  no  practical 
experience  either  as  a  statesman  or  as  a  military  man. 

As  a  writer,  his  best  quality  was  general  clearness.  He  wrote, 
however,  with  unreflecting  facility  and  in  a  colorless  style.  Con- 
stantly he  uses  the  abstract,  vague  terms  which,  in  his  time,  took 
the  place  of  the  precise,  concrete  expressions  of  the  earlier  period. 
He  is  almost  dry  in  the  ex])Osition  of  facts  ;  in  his  ])refaces,  when  he 
makes  general  observations,  his  style  is  apt  to  be  bombastic.  He 
believed  that  at  least  he  deserved  praise  "  for  not  having  misemployed 
harangues  "  (XX,  1). 

4.  Later  Historical  Writing.  Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus.  Strabo^ 
Lesser  Historians.^  —  After  Diodorus,  ^vesIiouTd  place  next  in  the 

'  For  Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus.  see  infrn.  p.  480.  For  Rtrabo,  Casaubon, 
Pari.s,   1020;    C.  Miiller  and  F.  Dubner,   Strabonis  Geographia,  with  a  Latin 


From  Augustus  to  Domitian  479 

series  of  historians,  Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus,  for  his  History  of 
the  Early  Centuries  of  Rome.  We  shall,  however,  simply  mention 
him  for  the  moment,  as  he  is  a  critic  of  literary  art  rather  than  a 
historian.  It  will  be  more  convenient  to  speak  of  his  history  in  con- 
nection with  his  rhetorical  works,  since  his  history  is  so  intimately 
dependent  upon  them. 

The  most  important  historical  writer  of  the  time  is  Strabo.  He 
shows  markedly  the  good  influence  which  the  establishment  of  Ro- 
man unity  exercised  on  historical  writing.  Nothing  could  more 
rapidly  develop  in  a  reflective  mind  the  philosophy  of  history 
than  the  growth  of  the  Roman  Empire.  As  3'et  nothing  had  brought 
so  vividly  to  light  certain  laws  of  the  evolution  of  humanity.  Such 
a  philosophy  was  not  strongly  marked  in  Strabo ;  yet  it  was  more 
so  than  in  many  of  his  contemporaries. 

We  know  but  little  of  his  life.  He  was  born  at  Amasea 
in  Pontus  about  60  b.c,  and  came  of  a  family  once  prominent 
and  wealthy.  He  attended  celebrated  schools  in  his  youth,  and 
embraced  the  Stoic  philosophy.  His  instinct  as  a  geographer  and 
historian  impelled  him  to  visit  a  large  part  of  the  empire.  Not  only 
was  he  fond  of  sight-seeing,  but  still  more  so  of  reading.  Polybius 
and  Posidonius  were  really  his  masters.  All  his  leisure  time  was 
absorbed  by  their  works.  When  not  travelling,  he  dwelt  apparently 
either  at  Rome  or  in  his  own  land.  He  died  probably  a  little  before 
2ii  A.D.,  after  having  lived  through  the  reign  of  Augustus  and  part  of 
that  of  Tiberius.  His  first  work  entitled  Historic  Studies  {'IcrTopiKa 
vTrofj.v7]fmTa)  is  lost.  It  was  written  in  the  early  years  of  Augustus's 
reign  and  had  forty-seven  books.  Aside  from  an  introduction  summar- 
izing the  earlier  periods,  it  began  with  the  date  at  which  Polybius 
stopped,  the  destruction  of  Carthage  in  146;  and  it  continued  till  the 
establishment  of  the  Empire.  The  existing  fragments  do  not  enable 
us  to  get  a  precise  idea  of  its  nature.  Apparently  rather  aiming  to 
draw  from  history  wise  counsels  than  to  give  a  scientific  narra- 
tive, he  limited  himself  mostly  to  important  events,  to  the  neglect 
of  minor  matters.  This  at  least  is  what  he  asserts  in  his  Geography 
(I,  13).  The  point  of  view  is  broad,  lofty,  and  philosophic ;  and  no 
doubt  was  due  in  part  to  Polybius,  his  master,  and  in  part  to  tlie 
influence  of  the  age. 

In  any  event,  his  reputation  rests  to-day  upon  another  work,  his 
Geography  or  Geographic  Studies  (Teuipya(f>LKa.),  which  are  preserved 
almost  in  their  entirety. 

translation  and  maps,  Paris,  Didot,  1858  ;  Mcineke,  Strabonis  Geographia, 
3  vols.,  Leipsic,  Teubner,  \Sr>S.  Historical  fragments  in  C.  Miiller,  Fr.  Hist. 
Greer.,  sup.  cit.,  vol.  III. 

Consult:  Marcel  Dubois,  Examen  de  la  geographie  de  Strahon.  Paris,  1891. 


480  Greek  Literature 

It  was  composed  in  the  earlier  Yfifli^  "^  Tiv.oring  |  and  was  like 
the  former  work  in  its  fundamental  design,  but  dilferent  in  its  set- 
ting and  the  proportion  of  the  elements  composing  it.  Although,  in 
both,  history  and  geography  were  thoroughly  mingled,  history  was 
predominant  in  the  former,  and  geography  in  the  latter.  And  since 
he  addressed  the  same  public  in  both,  he  must  have  used  the  same 
method.  He  left  aside  all  that  interested  only  specialists,  and  neg- 
lecting minute  details,  selected  and  condensed  into  a  clear  and  brief 
account  what  educated  men  needed  to  know,  especially  those  who 
took  part  in  public  affairs.  Hence  there  was  merely  enough  mathe- 
matical geography  to  demonstrate  a  few  indispensable  ideas,  but 
very  much  physical  geography,  to  show  the  conformity  and  special 
fitness  of  various  regions  to  the  life  of  the  people  in  them,  and  much 
political  geography,  assigning  the  races  of  men  to  their  localities  in 
the  outline  that  had  been  traced,  and  explaining  how  they  had 
reached  their  present  condition  by  noticing  what  use  they  had  made 
of  the  lands  and  waters  they  possessed.  It  was,  in  short,  a  philo- 
sophical humanistic  geography,  tending  to  resemble  history,  though 
preserving  its  proper  character.  It  seems  that,  in  antiquity,  no  one 
conceived  this  idea  so  clearly  as  Strabo. 

The  work  comprises  seventeen  books.  It  shows  a  just,  reflective 
spirit,  and  a  mastery  of  the  subject-matter.  The  author  aims  to 
make  a  complete  work ;  but  he  makes  his  account  proportionate  to 
the  interest  that  each  region  seems  likely  to  have  for  his  readers. 
The  ^Mediterranean,  in  his  view,  is  the  centre  of  the  world.  Italy, 
Greece,  and  Asia  Minor  are  the  regions  on  which  he  dwells  longest. 
He  used,  in  describing  these,  essentially  all  that  had  been  written  on 
the  subjects  he  treated,  whether  by  Homer,  whom  he  loved  to  quote, 
or  by  later  authors  down  to  his  own  day.  This,  too,  he  did  criti- 
cally, not  as  a  compiler.  Even  more  than  the  masters  in  his  line  of 
research,  Eratosthenes,  Hipparchus,  Poly  bins,  Fosidonius,  whose 
writings  he  used  abundantly,  Strabo  keeps  his  independence  and 
his  right  of  choosing  among  their  accounts.  Everywhere,  even  in 
his  errors,  there  is  a  manifest  fondness  for  precision  and  a  soundness 
of  judgment.  All  in  all,  his  statements  are  the  best  that  could 
then  be  given. 

As  a  literary  work,  the  Geo(frapJoj  had  real  value,  yet  not  enough 
to  make  it  a  work  of  art.  ]\reritorious  qualities  are  not  uncommon 
in  it.  Vivacity,  grace,  color,  eloquence,  grandeur,  and  charm  of 
imagination  are  not  there;  but  we  do  find  sound  exposition,  well 
managed,  correct,  clear,  and  always  sober,  sometimes  even  to  dryness. 
Tliere  is  little  description,  but  too  many  names.  The  author's  per- 
sonality scarcely  appears  except  in  the  choice  of  details,  in  the  method, 


Frofd  Augustus  to  Domitian  481 

and,  more  fully,  in  the  reflections.  These  are  always  brief,  but  just 
and  interesting,  and  illuminate  the  gi-eater  part  of  the  work.  The 
merely  picturesque  escaped  him.  Though  his  book  is  interesting  on 
account  of  the  information  it  contains,  it  can  never  charm  us.  It 
has  the  materials  for  a  literary  work ;  yet  it  is  not  literary.  The  style 
does  not  show  great  originality.  He  merely  used  the  language  of 
the  time  without  its  fine  writing.  The  exposition  is  clear  and  sane, 
but  it  lacks  grace,  is  mediocre  in  reflection,  heavy,  and  sometimes 
obscure.  On  the  whole,  it  is  colorless  and  rather  commonplace,  not 
particularly  suited  to  the  subject,  nor  delicately  adapted  to  its  pur- 
poses—  monotonous  and  cold,  lacking  in  character  and  also  in  beauty. 

The  author's  reputation  seems  to  have  been  slow  in  establishing 
itself.  But  this  was  amply  atoned  for  in  later  times.  The  work 
offered  so  complete  a  pictiire  of  the  world  at  the  beginning  of  the 
Empire  that  it  deservedly  became  classic.  For  the  Greeks  of  the 
latest  centuries  Strabo  was  "  The  Geographer  "  (6  yeuty pd<i>o<:') ;  in 
later  ages  he  was  distinguished  as  the  representative  of  a  certain 
composite  notion  of  geography,  which,  however,  somewhat  modi- 
fied, has  come  into  favor  in  our  own  day. 

There  is  no  need  to  enumerate  all  the  lesser  geographers  and 
historians  of  the  time  whose  names  have  been  transmitted  to  us. 
Perhaps  only  Nicholas  of  Damascus  should  be  mentioned,  because 
his  history  strongly  showed  the  encyclopaedic  tendency  which  was 
mentioned  in  connection  with  Diodorus,  and  was  characteristic  of 
the  time.^  He  was  a  Syrian  orator  and  philosopher,  who  lived 
chiefly  at  the  court  of  Herod  the  Great  and  his  sons.  Their  inter- 
ests, by  turns,  he  made  his  own.  He  was  born  in  64  b.c,  and  died 
probably  in  the  early  years  of  our  era.  Augustus  knew  him  and  was 
his  patron.  His  principal  work  was  his  Universal  History  in  144 
books,  extending  from  the  beginning  of  the  world  to  the  Augustan 
Age.  It  was  written  at  the  request  of  Herod ;  and  in  a  century 
fond  of  great  treasuries  of  easily  accessible  facts,  it  responded  well 
to  popular  tastes.  To  jvulge  from  rather  long  fragments  still  extant, 
it  possessed  neither  critical  worth  nor  literary  originality.  Besides 
the  History,  Nicholas  wrote  a  Life  of  Augustus,  and  an  Autobiography, 
of  which  considerable  fragments  are  preserved,  a  collection  of  Traits 
of  Character,  reduced  to-day  to  a  series  of  extracts,  and  various 
philosophical  essays. 

Under  Augustus,  Tiberius,  and  Nero  erudition,  which  was  closely 

akin  in  spirit  to  history  as  then  written,  inasmuch  as  it  was  more 

eager  for  details  than  judicious  in  its  selections,  likcAvise  had  great 

success  in  the  Graeco-Roman  world.     Among  its  representatives  may 

1  Fragments  iu  C.  Muller,  Fragm.  Hist.  Grxc,  sup.  cit. 

2i 


482  Greek  Literature 

be  cited  Juba  II,  king  of  Mauretania  from  approximately  50  b.c.  to 
20  A.D.,  who  wrote  some  Researches  in  Roman  History,  Notes  on  the 
History  of  the  Theatre,  and  various  miscellaneous  works ;  then  the 
Greek  Alexandrian  Apio,  a  bombastic  teacher  at  Rome  under  Tibe- 
rius and  Claudius,  chiefly  celebrated  for  his  projected  History  by 
Races  (la-ropia  KaT  €$vo<;).  Of  this  he  wrote  at  least  one  important 
section  on  the  Egyptians  (AlyvTrruLKa)  containing  many  diatribes 
against  the  Jews  which  were  refuted  by  Josephus,  Finally,  the 
scholar  Pamphila,  a  contemporary  of  Nero,  was  the  author  of  a  col- 
lection of  Historical  Anecdotes  (YtroixvrjfmTa  la-ropLKo)  often  cited.  All 
this,  it  must  be  owned,  scarcely  deserves  a  place  in  literature. 

5.  Jewish  History  under  the  Flavian  Emperors.  Flavius  Josephus.^  — 
By  the  side  and  apart  from  this  series  of  writers  on  history,  all  of 
whom,  to  some  extent,  considered  the  world  from  the  Roman  point 
of  view,  and  were  interested  in  the  past  without  distinction  of  race, 
a  place  must  be  reserved  for  a  Jewish  writer  of  the  first  century, 
who  did  not  wish  to  see  in  the  human  race  anything  but  his  own 
people,  and  who  devoted  himself  heart  and  soul  to  the  task  of  mak- 
ing that  people  celebrated. 

It  was  almost  two  centuries  since  the  history  of  the  Jews  had 
begun  to  be  part  of  the  learning  of  the  Greek  world  ;  for  Judaism 
itself  was  being  extensively  propagated.  Yet  no  great  general  work 
had  put  the  history  as  a  whole  into  the  possession  of  educated  and 
studious  Greeks.  The  furious  war  that  broke  out  in  Judoea  under 
Nero  gave  to  questions  respecting  the  nation  a  much  greater  inter- 
est ;  and  when  Vespasian,  who  had  begun  the  war,  became  emperor, 
and  his  son  Titus,  in  the  year  70,  ended  it  by  the  capture  of  Jeru- 
salem, the  history  of  the  Jews  was  associated  in  a  way  with  that  of 
the  dynasty.  The  favorable  moment  brought  to  the  front  a  man 
who  was  to  profit  by  the  new  conditions. 

Flavius  Josephus,  born  at  Jerusalem  in  the  year  37  a.d.,  was  a 
pupil  in  the  Jewish  schools,  and  came  to  take  part  when  young  in 
the  events  of  his  country's  history.  He  was  among  those  who  at- 
tempted to  stifle  the  revolt  of  GG,  but  who  were  afterward  forced,  in 
spite  of  themselves,  to  take  part  in  it.  He  fought  against  the 
Romans,  was  taken  prisoner  by  them,  and  from  that  time  lived  at 
the  courts  of  Vespasian,  Titus,  and  Domitian.  These  emperors 
granted  him  their  favor,  each  in  turn.  He  is  said  to  have  died  at 
Rome  in  the  reign  of  Hadrian. 

His  j)rincipal  work,  the  Jeici.ih  War,  in  seven  books,  appeared  in 

1  EniTinN-^i :  Pindorf,  Jnspphi  O/ifii-a,  Paris,  Didot,  1845;  B.  Niese,  Josephi 
Opera,  7  vols..  Bi-rlin,  1887-189-j  ;  editio  minor  of  tlie  same  in  the  same  years  ; 
Nuber,  Josephi  Opera,  0  vols.,  Leipsic,  Teubner,  1889-1896. 


From  Augustus  to  Domitian  483 

the  reign  of  Vespasian,  who  had  urged  him  to  write  it.  It  is  the 
story  of  the  war  begun  under  Nero  and  ending  in  the  victory  of 
Titus.  At  first  a  participant  in  the  war  and  later  an  eye-witness  of 
the  siege,  perfectly  informed  of  everything,  he  tells  us  that  he  com- 
posed his  account  by  the  help  of  notes  taken  from  day  to  day. 
Hence  his  work  would  offer  the  best  possible  guarantee  of  exactitude, 
had  he  not  manifestly  sought  to  please  his  patrons,  and  did  not  his 
party  prejudices  thwart  his  criticism.  One  feels  too  much  in  his 
narrative  that  he  was  a  member  of  the  Sanhedrim,  a  Pharisee,  who 
had  become  an  official  writer  of  history.  Yet  he  can  be  read  with 
interest.  The  general  sanity  of  the  design,  the  precision  and  abun- 
dance of  the  details,  the  happy  choice  of  traits  of  character  mingled 
with  descriptions,  give  him  a  real  historical  and  dramatic  value. 
The  author  sought  in  many  a  passage,  it  is  true,  to  secure  greater  effec- 
tiveness by  the  employment  of  bad  rhetoric ;  but  these  superadded 
passages  are  easy  to  eliminate.  The  work,  when  divested  of  them, 
recommends  itself  by  considerable  merits.  Josephus  wrote  in 
Hebrew,  then  with  the  aid  of  chosen  collaborators  translated  his  work 
into  Greek.  Beneath  the  correct  and  careful  mediocrity  of  the  Hel- 
lenic version  one  can  discern  the  firmness  and  clearness  of  his  spirit. 

He  had  treated  only  an  episode  of  Jewish  history.  Encouraged 
by  his  success,  he  wished  to  make  the  whole  history  known  to  the 
world  of  letters.  In  94  he  published  his  Antiqidties  of  the  Jews 
{'lovBaLKT]  dpxaLoKoyia)  in  twenty  books,  comprising  the  whole  history 
of  the  Jews  from  the  creation  of  the  world  to  the  year  66  of  our 
era.  Here  it  was  continued  by  the  story  of  the  war  already  men- 
tioned. The  first  part,  a  mere  transcription  of  the  Old  Testament,  is 
of  but  little  interest  to-day.  But  the  last  seven  books,  on  Herod 
the  Great  and  his  successors,  is  a  historical  document  that  nothing 
could  replace. 

The  other  works  of  Josephus  are  either  lost  or  of  secondary 
value.  It  will  suffice  to  mention  the  Apology  of  the  Jews  in  two 
books,  which  is  called,  thougli  improperly,  Af/ainst  Apio.  In  them 
Josephus  demonstrates  the  antiquity  of  his  race  and  its  nobility, 
and  defends  it  against  calumnious  imputations,  notably  those  for 
whicli  Apio  was  answerable,  in  the  work  already  mentioned  under 
his  name.     (History  by  Rdces  ;   see  p.  482.) 

6.  Philosophy.  Pythagoreans  and  Stoics.  The  First  Efforts  of 
Neo-Platonism :  Philo  the  Jew.^  —  Next  to  history,  philosophy  most 

1  The  frafrments  of  the  pliilosopbers  are  ccpnerally  to  be  found  in  Mullach, 
Fniijm.  Phil.  Grcec.  For  Cornutus,  one  may  refer  to  (,".  I>ang,  Cornuti  TlieoJogice 
(rnercE  Compendium,  Loipsic.  Teuluicr.  1881  ;  for  Musonius  to  Peerlkainp. 
Musnnii  Ecliquice  et  Apojihtli'-iimni'i.  Haaricin.  1822  ;  for  Cebes  to  the  Didot 
Tiieuphrastus,  with  which  the  Tablet  is  incorporated  ;  also  to  I'rachter,  Celetis 


484  Greek  Literature 

occupied  the  cultivated  men  of  the  time.  But  as  yet  it  scarcely  pro- 
duced works  of  literary  importance,  and  we  must  be  content  with  a 
hasty  survey  of  its  career. 

In  the  very  beginning  of  this  perio^i,  or  better  about  the  com- 
mencement of  the  first  century,  there  appeared  a  curious  revival  of 
Pythagoreauism.  Probably  it  began  at  Alexandria;  from  Egypt, 
the  doctrine,  in  its  new  form,  spread  to  Rome,  where  we  find  it  cul- 
tivated in  the  circle  of  Cicero.  It  was  to  continue  in  existence  in 
this  form  for  three  or  four  centuries,  but  in  a  state  of  mediocrity. 

Its  place  in  literature  is  signalized  by  various  works.  These 
include  a  series  of  apocryphal  writings,  of  uncertain  date  and  origin, 
such  as  the  Golden  Words  (Xpvcra  tTrr;),  which  consist  of  moral  and 
religious  precepts  designed  as  a  daily  rule  for  the  Pythagoreans ; 
the  treatises  on  various  subjects  attributed  to  Timaus  of  Locris, 
Ocellus  of  Lucania,Brontinus, etc.,  and  to  some  Pythagorean  women; 
the  anonymous  collections  of  Gnomes  and  Similitudes  ;  and  a  few 
fragments  from  various  representatives  of  the  sect,  such  as  the 
Sextii,  Sotion,  Moderatus  of  Gades,  and  Areius  Didymus.  The 
Sextii  Avere  contemporary  with  Augustus  and  Tiberius ;  Sotion 
was  a  teacher  of  Seneca ;  and  the  others  were  contemporaries  of 
Nero.  The  best  known  of  the  Pythagorean  writings  is  the  short 
allegorical  composition  called  Cebes'  Tablet  (Kc/St/tos  Triva^).  It  is  an 
imaginary  allegorical  picture  of  human  life ;  and  the  explanation 
given  constitutes  a  system  of  morals  half  Stoic  and  half  Pythago- 
rean. Although  its  date  is  indefinite,  there  is  reason  for  believing 
it  part  of  the  movement  of  ideas  of  the  first  century  after  Christ. 

Stoicism  came  to  Rome  earlier  and  was  more  widely  popular 
there  than  Pythagoreauism.  In  the  first  century,  it  was  repre- 
sented by  a  somewhat  large  number  of  famous  men.  They  were 
professors  and  preachers  in  general,  rather  than  writers ;  and  their 
works  have  not  been  preserved.  Yet  Cornutus,  the  teacher  of  Per- 
sius,  has  left  us  an  Abridgment  of  Greek  Theology,  in  which  are 
found  the  etymological  and  symbolic  interpretations  given  by  the 
Stoic  school  to  poetic  and  popular  mythology,  ^lore  interesting  is 
the  moralist  C.  Musonius  Rufus,  the  teacher  of  Epictetus.  His 
lectures  in  Greek  were  collected  by  one  of  his  pupils,  and  some  have 
been  preserved  in  part  in  the  Florilegiuni  of  Stobseus.  It  is  an  in- 
teresting but  incomplete  report,  weakened,  unfortunately,  by  the 
transcriber ;  and  treats  the  Stoic  teaching  of  the  time. 

Tahtda,  Teubner  ;  for  Philo  to  Iloltze,  Philonis  Opr-ra  Onniin,  8  vols.,  Leipsic, 
Tauchnitz,  1851-18').3  ;  and  Cohii  unci  Wendland.  Philovis  Opera,  in  course  of 
publication  at  Herlin  since  1800.  Consult :  Ed.  Herriot,  Philon  le  Juif,  Paris,  18!'8. 
[rhilo  is  translated  into  English  by  C.  ]).  Yonge.  —  Tr.] 


From  Augustus  to  Domitian  485 

The  only  philosopher  of  the  period  who  attained  any  importance 
in  literature  is  the  Jew  Philo.  We  have  an  ample  collection  of  his 
writings. 

Born  about  20  B.C.,  at  Alexandria,  he  seems  to  have  passed  most 
of  his  life  in  the  midst  of  the  important  Jewish  community  estab- 
lished in  his  native  city.  There  he  attained  eminence,  owing  partly 
to  the  position  of  his  family,  and  partly  to  his  talent  and  education. 
In  the  reign  of  Caligula  he  was  sent  on  an  embassy  to  Ron^e  to 
defend  the  interests  of  his  religion.  With  this  exception,  his  entire 
life  was  spent  in  retirement,  meditation,  and  instruction.  He  must 
have  died  in  the  reign  of  Claudius.  His  extremely  numerous  writ- 
ings are  mostly  concerned  with  the  philosophy  of  religion.  Many 
were  commentaries  on  the  Bible.     We  have  all  but  a  few  of  them. 

Their  philosophic  interest  is  due  to  their  method  as  well  as  to  their 
doctrine.  The  method  was  borrowed  from  his  predecessors,  and  by 
them  from  the  Stoics,  and  consists  in  the  freest  allegorical  interpre- 
tation. He  believed  that  almost  never  does  the  Bible  mean  what 
it  seems  to  say ;  that  beneath  all  or  almost  all  the  words  there  is  a 
hidden  meaning,  whose  discovery  is  the  all-important  thing.  Though 
intending  to  be  scrupulously  faithful  to  the  Jews'  religion,  he  de- 
duced from  the  sacred  books  whatever  doctrine  he  might  wish, 
even  finding,  more  or  less  modified,  the  ideas  of  Plato.  His 
teaching  is,  in  fact,  Platonic;  but  he  is  a  mystic  Platonist,  in 
whom  appears,  in  germ,  the  Neo-Platonism  of  the  third  century. 
His  philosophy  is  essentially  a  theology.  It  recognizes  a  single  god, 
as  far  removed  as  possible  from  the  world ;  subordinate  to  this  god, 
a  Word  (Adyos),  which  is  his  emanation,  and  plays  the  part  of  inter- 
mediary between  him  and  his  creatures.  With  his  theology  is 
associated  or  mingled  a  system  of  morals.  Stoic  in  its  basis,  but 
much  like  Christianity  in  its  idea  of  divine  grace.  His  moral  sys- 
tem is  m3^stical  and  often  visionary,  the  dream  of  a  mind  that  is 
nourished  on  good  materials,  but  that  would  gladly  leave  its  earthly 
body,  rise  to  God,  and  live  in  Him  a  life  of  contemplation,  full  of  joy 
and  reverent  affection. 

What  makes  Philo  original  as  a  writer  is  the  personality  visible 
behind  these  ideas  —  a  personality  tender  and  pious,  all  animate  with 
the  religion  of  love.  The  sentiments  that  fill  his  writings,  and  his 
manner  of  expressing  them,  make  him,  from  the  literary  point  of 
view,  almost  an  intermediary  between  Plato  and  the  Christian 
Fathers.  Suidas  quotes  an  anonymous  expression,  which  says  that 
Philo  "  Platonized."  This  is  true  of  both  his  style  and  doctrine. 
He  resembles  Plato  in  his  easy  facility,  in  the  large,  free  current 
of  his  style,  and  in  his  well-arranged,  though  not  periodic,  sentence- 


486  Greek  Literature 

structure.  Like  Plato,  though  in  a  less  degree,  he  has  the  gift  of 
associating  poetry  with  prose  without  loss,  the  power  of  inventing 
images,  and  the  faculty  of  combining  subtle  dialectic  with  origi- 
nal grace  of  re  very  and  sentiment.  But  he  absolutely  lacks  the 
dramatic  instinct  which  was  so  active  in  Plato.  His  fulness  is 
almost  always  prolix,  and  soon  becomes  monotonous.  His  merit  is 
not  that  he  reproduced  something  of  the  style  of  Plato ;  but  rather 
that  he  often  expressed  in  their  appropriate  form  his  own  original 
sentiments.  He  is  the  first  prose  writer  who  could  speak  to  God,  or 
of  Him  to  men,  with  the  tone  of  ardent  piety  and  sincere  reverence 
which  was  to  be  characteristic  of  the  Christian  writers. 

7.  Grammar,  Rhetoric,  and  Literary  Criticism.  Dionysius  of  Hali- 
camassus  and  Caecilius.  —  We  have  reserved  for  the  end  ofthTs  chap- 
ter a  group  of  men  who  made  a  special  study  of  language  and  the 
art  of  writing.  They  were  not  superior,  nor  even  always  equal,  in 
talent,  to  those  whom  we  have  just  mentioned ;  but  they  represented 
one  of  the  principal  elements  of  the  revival  which  was  then  be- 
ginning. 

Strictly  grammatical  studies,  though  still  continued  after  the 
manner  of  the  Alexandrians,  cannot  detain  us  even  in  passing ;  for 
in  the  first  century  they  produced  no  eminent  man  and  no  consider- 
able work.  It  will  suffice  to  mention  the  grammarians  Theo  and 
Pamphilus  of  Alexandria ;  Aristonicus,  a  commentator  of  Homer ; 
Heliodorus,  a  writer  on  metre ;  and  the  lexicographer  Apollonius. 
Their  works  are  lost  or  only  partly  preserved,  and  show  how  much 
attached  the  Greeks  of  this  time  were  to  the  classic  authors. 

Khetoric,  in  its  technical  forms,  cannot  claim  our  attention  either. 
"We  may  note  merely  the  rivalry  between  tlie  schools  of  Apollodorus 
and  Theodorus.  The  former  were  followers  of  the  rhetorician  Apol- 
lodorus of  Pergamon,  who  taught  about  the  middle  of  the  first  cen- 
tury B.C. ;  the  latter,  of  Theodorus  of  Gadara,  a  famous  teacher  in 
the  time  of  Augustus  and  Tiberius.  They  quarrelled  over  the  value 
of  riiles  and  classifications,  the  school  of  Apollodorus  laying  greater 
emphasis  upon  theory,  that  of  Theodorus,  upon  experience  and  its 
results.  In  sucli  discussions,  which  occupied  the  Greek  schools 
throughout  the  first  century  and  even  later,  one  sees  what  interest 
young  men  took  in  the  art  of  discourse  at  a  time  when  oratory  seemed 
extinct  forever.  Thus  one  can  ex])lain  in  advance  the  immense 
success  which  the  masters  of  the  art  were  to  have  in  the  century 
following. 

l>ut  in  this  period  of  the  literature  what  deserves  to  interest  us 
most  is  criticism.  It  was  represented  chiefly  by  two  men  whose 
names  are  inseparable,  Dionysius  of   Halicarnassus  and  Caicilius. 


From  Augustus  to  Domitian  487 

Yet  the  former  is  the  only  oue  of  importance  for  us,  as  the  latter's 
works  have  wholly  disappeared. 

Dionysius,'  born  at  Halicarnassus  in  Asia  Minor,  came  to  Rome 
in  the  year  30  b.c,  still  a  young  man,  and  lived  there  till  the  close 
of  the  reign  of  Augustus.  He  taught  under  conditions  of  which  we 
know  little,  probably  more  as  a  grammarian  and  critic  than  as  a 
rhetorician.  His  writings  represent  him  as  in  the  midst  of  a  circle 
of  men  of  letters,  Greeks  and  Romans,  among  them  were  some  power- 
ful patrons  like  Rufus  Melitius  and  Q.  ^lius  Tubero.  Excepting 
history,  which,  for  him,  was  only  a  branch  of  rhetoric,  literary 
criticism  seems  to  have  been  his  passion,  and  almost  the  sole  occu- 
pation of  his  life. 

As  a  critic  he  was,  first  of  all,  the  heir  of  the  commentators  of 
Alexandria  and  Pergamon;  and  in  him,  we  see  perpetuated  most 
of  the  traditions  of  Aristarchus  and  Crates.  Yet  he  gave  himself 
less  than  they  to  verbal  interpretation,  and  occupied  himself  more 
with  the  main  characteristics  of  the  works  and  the  men.  Herein 
he  probably  followed  the  Peripatetics,  especially  Theophrastus. 
His  principal  observations  were  along  the  line  of  imitation,  noting 
in  each  author  Avhat  could  be  imitated,  and  indicating  what  particu- 
lar purpose  the  imitation  could  serve.  If  his  point  of  view  is  nar- 
row^ his  taste  is  still  more  so.  Endowed  with  acumen  and  a  just, 
even  delicate,  sense  of  style,  he  was  frightened  or  offended  by  every- 
thing in  the  classic  authors  that  savored  of  too  bold  originality ;  and 
he  said  so  in  sincerity :  "  For  the  first  thing  necessary  is  not  to 
deceive  willingly,  and  not  to  sully  one's  conscience  "  {On  the  Char- 
acter of  Thucydkles,  c.  8).  Hence  the  strange  variation  in  the  value 
of  his  criticism;  he  admires  Demosthenes  as  he  ought,  but  he  has 
strange  prejudices  against  Thucydides  and  Plato. 

His  /Studies  on  the  Ancient  Orators  is  probably  the  oldest  work  of 
his  that  lias  reached  us.  We  have  the  first  part  only,  containing  the 
studies  on  Lysias,  Isocrates,  and  IscEus.  The  study  of  Lysias  is 
particularly  interesting,  and  is  thoroughly  fitted  to  make  us  appre- 
ciate the  correctness  of  his  criticism.     The  Dinarchus  and  the  First 

1  Editions  :  Reiske,  Dionysii  Opera  Omnia,  0  veils.,  Lcipsic,  1774-1776; 
G.  Kies.sling.  Dionysii  Ilixtoria  Jhirnana,  5  vols.,  Leipsic,  Teubner.  18(50-1870 ; 
Jacobi,  a  new  edition  in  the  Teubner  Collection,  begun  in  1889;  Usener  und 
Rademacher,  Dionijxii  Opera  Ithctorica.  begun  in  1899,  in  the  Teubner  Collec- 
tion. Also  II.  van  Herwerden,  Dion.  IlaJic.  Ephtolm  Critkm  Trcs.  Groningen, 
]8()]  ;  Usener,  Dioni/sii  Ilalic.  JAhrnrnm  de  ImitnliDne  Reliquicii  Epistolwqne 
Du(c,  Bonn,  1889  ;  Usener,  Dioti.  Ilalic.  qiioi  fcrtur  Ars  lihetorica,  Leipsic, 
1895  ;  A.  M.  Desrons.seaux  et  M.  Egger,  Critique  un  Lijsias,  text  and  French 
translation,  Paris,  1890.  De  Imitatione,  etc.,  with  English  translation,  KoberUs, 
Cambridge  and  London,  1901. 

Tlie  fragments  of  Ca-cilins  are  in  Miiller,  Fraejm.  Ilixt.  Grac,  sup.  cit.., 
vol.  Ill  ;  and  are  edited  by  Burckhardt,  Basle,  1863. 


488  Greek  Literature 

Letter  to  Ammceus  treat  special  points  and  are  of  less  importance. 
To  his  full  maturity  belongs  the  treatise  On  the  An'angement  of 
Words  (IIcpl  <TvvOi(Ttu}<i  ovofidroiv),  in  which  he  studies  the  sentence- 
structure  of  the  leading  poets  and  prose-writers.  The  work  abounds 
in  interesting  information ;  and,  what  is  more,  it  has  preserved,  in 
the  form  of  citations,  a  few  notable  passages,  particularly  a  cele- 
brated ode  of  Sappho. 

His  principal  study  on  the  style  of  oratory  is  his  treatise  on  the 
Power  of  the  Style  of  Demosthenes,  in  which  he  puts  Demosthenes 
above  all  other  prose-writers,  even  Thucydides  and  Plato.  To  this 
work  were  added,  as  supplements  or  justifications,  the  Letter  to  Cn. 
Pompeius,  the  Character  of  Tliucydides,  and  the  Second  Letter  to 
Ammceus  on  the  peculiarities  of  the  style  of  Thucj-dides.  In  these 
various  writings  he  is  quite  unjust  to  the  great  historian,  whose 
merit,  nevertheless,  he  pretends  to  recognize. 

Besides  these  works,  he  composed  several  others,  now  lost.  The 
most  important  was  a  treatise  in  three  books  On  Lnitation,  in  which 
were  set  forth  the  fundamental  principles  of  his  criticism.  Of  the 
second  book,  there  are  extant  a  number  of  his  judgments,  some 
in  the  original  form,  others  in  abridgment.  They  have  been  re- 
united under  the  title  of  Critique  on  the  Ancient  Writers.  Quin- 
tilian  used  them  in  composing  the  first  chapter  of  his  tenth  book. 

His  works  certainly  did  him  honor,  yet  without  securing  him  a 
place  among  great  thinkers.  He  deserves  credit  chiefly  because 
he  preserved  the  opinions  of  post-Aristotelian  critics.  However, 
his  influence  has  not  been  xinimportant.  He  struggled  with  jjassion- 
ate  zeal  against  the  oratory  known  as  Asiatic,  whose  principles,  in 
short,  commended  bad  taste  and  the  avowed  championship  of  igno- 
rance. With  the  same  zeal  and  the  same  passion,  he  defended  the 
Attic  orators,  and  the  great  classic  poets  and  prose-writers  whom  he 
admired.  He  exercised  real  authority  over  his  contemporaries,  and 
there  is  every  evidence  that  the  autliority  was  lasting.  Hence  it  is 
only  just  to  consider  him  as  one  of  those  who  did  good  service  to 
Hellenism. 

His  historical  work  is  far  inferior  to  his  work  as  a  critic.  It  was 
both  a  wish  to  pass  from  theory  to  practice  and  a  sincere  respect  for 
Roman  genius  which  caused  him  to  think  of  becoming  a  historian  of 
Rome.  The  account  of  the  origins  of  the  Roman  power  seemed  the 
fittest  subject  for  the  exercise  of  his  talent.  He  undertook  to  win 
honor  for  himself  and  to  glorify  the  hospitable  city  that  had  become 
liis  favorite  abode. 

The  ]*rimitii-e  History  of  Rome  ('P(D/m:iKr]  aoxuaXoy-a)  formed  twenty 
books.     It  extended  from  the  foundation  of  the  citv  to  the  First  Punic 


From  Augustus  to  Domitian  489 

"War,  a  period  of  five  centuries.  In  this  long  period  the  author  pro- 
posed to  bring  to  the  front  the  history  of  institutions  and  manners, 
together  with  that  of  wars  and  treaties.  We  have  only  the  first  eleven 
of  the  twenty  books,  and  some  fragments  of  the  others. 

Dionysius  tells  us  that  he  spent  more  than  twenty  years  on  his 
great  work  (30-8  B.C.).  In  writing  it,  he  made  use  of  the  most 
famous  Roman  annalists,  Cato,  Fabius  Pictor,  Valerius  of  Antium, 
Licinius  Macer,  and  many  others.  All  the  historical  matter  of  his 
works  is  taken  from  their  writings.  Herein,  it  must  be  acknowl- 
edged at  once,  he  has  incontestable  documentary  value ;  for  he  has 
preserved  more  fully  than  Livy  a  multitude  of  important  facts  con- 
cerning Roman  traditions,  as  these  were  preserved  or  created  little  by 
little.  From  the  scientific  point  of  view,  this  is  the  sole  merit  of  his 
work.  Personal  criticism  is  wholly  wanting.  IVIythic  elements,  when 
they  suited  his  fancy,  were  accorded  puerile  indulgence.  He  has  no 
doubt  that  the  Romans  were  descendants  of  old  Greek  colonists  estab- 
lished in  Latiura.  His  accounts  of  manners  and  institutions,  though 
clear  and  well  written,  are  neither  deep  nor  coherent.  Incapable  of 
profiting  by  the  example  of  Polybius,  he  is  exceedingly  weak  in  polit- 
ical philosophy  and  originality,  though  undertaking.:  a  task  for  which 
these  are  indispensable.  Even  his  chronology,  based  on  a  synchronism 
of  the  consuls  of  Rome  and  the  archons  of  Athens,  proves  that  either 
he  did  not  see  the  difficulties  of  his  task  or  purposely  overlooked 
them. 

These  grave  defects  are  far  from  being  compensated  by  literary 
merit.  The  account,  though  correct,  is  mediocre ;  it  is  but  a  series 
of  amplifications,  now  narrative,  now  oratorical,  in  accordance  with 
the  rules  of  the  school.  A  still  graver  lack  is  that  of  a  personal 
accent.  There  is  never  anything  particularly  animated  or  striking, 
anything  that  touches  one  or  causes  one  to  think.  Throughout  the 
long  monotonous  composition,  everything  is  said  in  the  same  tone  ; 
all  the  characters  speak  in  the  same  style ;  all  tlie  scenes  have  the 
same  color.  The  reader  follows  with  indifference  the  passing  of 
events,  as  if  the  series  were  not  connected  by  any  unifying  bond ; 
in  the  long,  monotonous  vo3'age  down  the  centuries,  one  has  for  one's 
guide  only  an  honest  professor  of  rhetoric,  a  simple,  pious  man, 
whose  philosophy  is  an  unquestioning  belief  in  a  l*rovidence  with- 
out purposes,  chastising  or  recompensing  from  time  to  time,  but 
accomplishing  no  end. 

His  repiitation  is  based,  in  short,  chiefly  on  his  work  as  a  critic. 
A  critic,  too,  was  his  friend  C'tecilius,  whom  we  have  mentioned;  but 
the  Avritings  of  Cjecilius  have  disappeared,  and  his  reputation  has  all 
but  perished  with  them.     There  is,  however,  an  anonymous  work, 


490  Greek  Literature 

probably  of  the  same  period,  which  must  not  be  passed  over  in  silence. 
It  is  the  treatise  On  the  Sublime,  falsely  attributed  to  Longinus.' 
This  work  appears,  for  various  reasons,  to  belong  to  the  first  century 
of  our  era.  Without  being  original  in  doctrine  or  method,  it  has  a 
marked,  sincere,  literary  sentiment,  even  ardent  at  times,  which 
gives  to  the  author's  appreciations  and  to  his  style  something  of  life 
and  personality.  It  has  also  a  liberality  and  generosity  of  spirit  that 
reveal  an  honest  man  in  the  professor.  The  same  subject  had  already 
been  treated  by  Caecilius.  The  anonymous  author  wished  to  be  more 
practical  than  his  predecessor,  so  he  multiplied  examples;  and  we 
owe  to  his  practice  of  citing  passages  the  existence  of  some  fine 
quotations. 

From  all  that  has  been  said,  it  is  right  to  conclude  that,  in  the 
first  century  of  the  Empire,  literary  criticism  was  about  to  become  a 
distinct  form  of  composition.  The  movement  resulted  among  the 
Romans  in  Quintilian's  Institutes  of  Oratory.  Among  the  Greeks, 
it  disappeared  in  the  sophistry  of  the  succeeding  century. 

8.  Poetry  in  the  First  Century.^  —  Poetry  could  have  but  little 
place  in  the  life  of  the  society  of  the  time.  All  the  great  sources 
of  inspiration  —  religion,  patriotism,  love  of  the  beautiful  —  had 
grown  cold  or  tasteless.  There  remained  scholastic  tradition  and 
polite  elegance ;  and  with  these,  the  poets  who  still  pretended  to  the 
name  were  content. 

Most  of  them  were  poets  only  on  occasion.  They  were  ordinarily 
teachers  of  rhetoric,  scholars,  sometimes  men  of  the  world.  They 
composed  epigrams  on  mere  bagatelles ;  all  their  art  was  exhausted 
in  giving  a  pretty  turn  to  a  dozen  verses.  Only  a  few  Greeks  in  the 
retinue  of  the  patricians,  Orceculi,  still  laboriously  wrought  out  poems 
in  praise  of  their  patrons ;  and  the  patrons  were  really  the  only  ones 
interested.     Poets  and  poems  disappeared  together. 

The  epigrams  had  at  least  a  certain  merit  of  grace,  elegance,  and 
spirit ;  and  as  they  were  short,  they  could  be  read  and  re-read.  From 
time  to  time  there  was  found  an  amateur,  who  collected  and  published 
the  best  of  them.  Such  was  the  Crown  of  Meleager  already  men- 
tioned; such,  too,  the  collection  of  epigrams  published  by  Philip 
of  Thessalonica  under  Caligula.  It  would  be  interesting  to  enu- 
merate the  poets  represented.     The  best  known  were  Antipater  of 

1  Editions  by  Weiske,  Oxford.  1820 ;  Spengel,  Bhetorcs  Graici,  I.  Leipsic, 
1>*5.3  (2d  ed.,  1894)  ;  Jahn  und  Vahlen,  Bonn,  1887  ;  edition  with  notes  and 
translation  by  Roberts,  Cambridge,  1891*.  English  translation  by  Havell,  Lon- 
don and  New  York,  1890. 

-  The  fragments  of  these  poets  are  in  Jacobs,  Antholoqia,  13  vols.,  Leipsic, 
1794-1814  :  and  in  the  editions  by  Diibner,  2  vols.,  with  Latin  translation.  Paris, 
Didot,  1804-1872  ;  and  by  H.  StadtmuUer,  Leipsic,  in  course  of  publication  since 
1894. 


From  Augustus  to  Domitian  491 

Thessalonica,  Crinagoras  of  Mitylene,  and  Antiphilus  of  Byzantium. 
None  of  them  merits  more  than  passing  mention.  Though  in  differ- 
ent degrees,  they  were  all  subservient  to  the  method  of  Leouidas  of 
Tarentum,  which  was  Alexandrian ;  but  their  art  was  less  polished 
than  his,  and  the  processes  of  rhetoric  were  more  apparent. 

In  the  other  types  of  poetry,  the  only  man  who  seems  to  have 
given  proof  of  any  capacity  for  invention  is  Philistion,  a  writer  of 
mimes,  who  probably  lived  under  Augustus  and  Tiberius.  His 
comedies  were  doubtless  mere  di'oll  scenes,  in  the  course  of  which 
were  enunciated  a  few  vigorous,  striking  thoughts.  Apparently  his 
success  was  great ;  but  we  have  under  his  name  only  a  few  isolated 
maxims,  and  even  the  authenticity  of  these  is  doubtful. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

THE   HELLENIC   REVIVAL 
(From  Nerva  to  the  Death  of  Diocletian) 

1.  General  View.  Causes  and  Character  of  the  Hellenic  Revival.  2.  Develop- 
ment of  Moral  Philosophy  after  Domitian.  Epictetus.  3.  Dio  Chrysostom. 
4.  Plutarch  :  his  Life  and  Writings.  5.  General  Character  of  Plutarch's 
"Work.  6.  Plutarch  as  a  Philosopher  and  Moralist.  7.  Plutarch  as  a 
Historian:  the  Parallel  Lives.  Value  of  his  Work  as  a  Whole.  8.  Marcus 
Aurelius.  9.  History  :  Arrian  and  Appian.  10.  Later  Historical  Writing. 
Dio  Cassius.  Herodian.  11.  Scholars  and  Compilers.  Pausanias.  The 
Library  of  Apollodorus.  Diogenes  Laertius.  12.  Sophistry :  its  Origin  ; 
Sketch  of  its  History  in  the  Second  and  Third  Centuries.  13.  ^lius  Aris- 
tides  and  Maximus  of  Tyre.  14.  Lucian  ;  his  Life  and  Writings  ;  his  Hole 
and  Talent.  15.  His  Literary  Creations.  16.  Alciphron  ;  the  Philostrati ; 
JEVism.  17.  Poetry :  Oppian  ;  Babrius.  18.  The  Romance.  19.  Rhetoric 
and  Grammar.  20.  Philosophy  and  Science  before  Neo-Platonism :  Ptole- 
majus ;  Galen;  Sextus  Empiricus.  21.  Neo-Platonism:  Plotinus  and  Por- 
phyry. 22.  Rise  and  Expansion  of  Christian  Literature  in  the  Second  and 
Third  Centuries  :  the  Apologists.  The  Doctors :  Clement  of  Alexandria  ; 
Origen  ;  Hippolytus. 

1.    General  View.     Causes  and  Character  of  the  Hellenic  Revival.  — 

Greek  genius  had  just  passed  througli  a  period  of  eclipse.  This,  how- 
ever, was  of  short  duration.  Even  in  the  first  century  after  Christ, 
under  Vespasian  and  his  sons,  we  see  symptoms  of  its  approaching  re- 
vival. Under  Nerva  and  Trajan  the  revival  became  more  marked. 
It  continued  under  Hadrian,  Antoninus,  ]\[arcus  Aurelius,  and  Com- 
modus  —  quite  througli  the  second  century.  It  was  a  veritable  renais- 
sance. Once  move  we  meet  with  men  who  have  worth  as  original 
thinkers,  moralists,  and  writers.  It  is  true  that  at  the  end  of  the 
second  century,  tTTe  fecundity  of  Hellenic  letters  seems  to  wane  again. 
Yet  in  the  third  century,  Neo-Platonism  was  organized  and  proved 
to  V)e  the  most  remarkable  philosophy  in  tlie  Greek  world  after  the 
time  of  Aristotle.  It  may  be  said  that  from  the  advent  of  Nerva  to 
the  death  of  Diocletian  great  works  succeeded  one  another  without 
interruption.  "What  are  the  causes  of  tlie  revival,  and  what  is  its 
character  '.' 

It  was  the  political  condition  of  the  Koman  world  which  made 
the  Greek  revival  possible.    The  closing  years  of  the  Roman  republic 

4('2 


The  Hellenic  Revival  493 

had  been  a  time  of  turmoil.  The  Greek  kingdoms  had  disappeared ; 
and  the  provinces  succeeding  them  had  not  yet  learned  the  customs 
necessary  under  the  new  regime.  Till  the  advent  of  Vespasian,  they 
were  often  violently  rent  by  civil  wars.  Under  the  Flavian  emperors 
a  better  era  came.  With  Xerva  and  his  successors,  tranquillity  and 
prosperity  were  reestablishe3~arid  reigned  continuouslytili  the  death 
of  Commodus^  The^lntetlect  could  have  free  play  once  more.  The 
schools  were  well  attended^  murncipanife  wa.s  organized,  the  provinces 
grew  accustomed  to  their  condition,  and  the  relations  of  society  were 
once  more  active  and  complex.  Men  could  live  in  peace  at  home, 
toil,  be  at  leisure  to  think,  and  travel  with  impunity.  The  exchange 
of  ideas  was  remarkably  promoted  by  the  new  organization  of  the 
world. 

Greek  thought,  of  course,  tended  to  accommodate  itself  to  its 
new  conditions,  and  in  the  very  nature  of  things  became  productive. 
The  effort  to  secure  this  accommodation  was  really  the  main  cause 
of  its  success.     Divested,  in  spite  of  herself,  of  the  old  patriotism 
which  had  so  long  animated  her,  Greece  was  compelled  to  lay  aside 
the  purely  national  ideal  of  classic  times,  renounce  the  dainty  art  of 
Alexandria,  and  adapt  herself  more  and  more  to  humanity  as  a  whole. 
Henceforth,  consciously  or  in  ignorance,  this  was  her  definitely  pre- 
scribed task.     Ancient  culture  continued,  but  became  more  universal 
and  liberal.     In  philosophy,  in  literature,  men  professed  their  alIe-~~ 
giance  to  the  renowned  masters  of  old ;   but  the  old  ideals  were 
adopted_pnly;^in  so  far  as  they  were  applicable  to  the  new  orcTer  of 
things ;  and  many  elements  of  diverse  origin  were  incorporated  with 
them.     Hence  originality  was  possible,  notwithstanding  the  imita- 
tion ;  and  hence  the  distinguished  men  of  the  time  were  different    j 
from  their  immediate  predecessors.     The  latter  had  done  little  but  ^  ^ 
compile,  select,  comment,  and  adapt  what  they  found;  these  re-  J 
fashioned  what  they  seemed  to  borrow. 

To  give  to  the  account  of  such  complex  facts  all  the  order  that  is 
possible,  we  shall  commence  by  studying  the  development  of  philoso- 
phy with  Epictetus,  Dio,  Plutarch,  and  ]Marcus  Aurelius,  as  it  is  in 
and  through  them  that  the  revival  of  the  second  century  first  appears 
with  brilliance;  then  Ave  shall  pass  to  the  historians  and  scholars, 
Avho,  in  certain  ways,  resemble  them  ;  and  in  the  middle  of  the  chap- 
ter we  shall  speak  of  sophistry,  which  filled  the  century  with  the 
noise  of  its  success.  To  the  sophists  proper,  Herodes  Atticus, 
^lius  Aristides,  and  Maximus  of  Tyre,  Ave  shall  join  Lucian,  their 
adversary  and  their  pupil :  then  Aleiphron,  .5^1ian,  and  the  Philos- 
trati,  Avho  continued  their  Avork  from  the  reign  of  Commodus  to  the 
end   of   the   third   century ;    and   then,    all    Avho   had    to    do    Avith 


494  Greek  Literature 

sophistry,  that  is,  with  poetry  and  romance  on  the  one  hand,  and 
with  rhetoric  and  grammar  on  the  other.  We  shall  return  eventually 
to  history  and  philosophy,  and  finish  tracing  their  evolution :  to 
history,  to  speak  of  Dio  Cassius  and  Herodian ;  and  to  philosophy, 
to  show,  in  Neo-Platonism,  the  organization  of  a  theology  which 
aimed  to  renew  and  enlarge  the  scope  of  Hellenic  thought.  The 
chapter  will  conclude  with  a  summary  account  of  the  rise  and 
expansion  of  Christian  literature,  which  in  the  century  succeeding 
was  to  absorb  almost  the  whole  vitality  of  Hellenism. 

2.  Development  of  Moral  Philosophy  after  Domitian.  Epictetus.^  — 
We  have  seen  that  for  several  centuries  philosophy  was  occupied 
in  a  way  with  morals.  The  philosophers  of  the  Alexandrian  period 
had  treated  it  as  a  system  of  doctrine.  Those  of  the  first  century 
of  the  Empire,  inheriting  the  dogmas  of  their  predecessors,  had 
scarcely  more  than  shown  its  applications.  They  had  become  less 
and  less  theorists  and  more  and  more  preachers  and  directors  of 
conscience.  In  a  general  way  this  is  also  the  part  of  the  philoso- 
phers of  whom  we  are  now  to  speak.  Yet  they  gave  proof  of  origi- 
nality in  their  own  way,  because  they  no  longer  addressed  themselves 
to  a  narrow  circle,  but  spoke  to  all  the  world. 

The  first  of  these  great  moralists,  Epictetus,  wrote  nothing.  His 
discourse,  however,  was  strong,  sincere,  and  spontaneous,  and  con- 
tinued to  live  in  the  mere  notes  of  his  disciple.  Here  it  shows,  in 
somewhat  stern  brilliance,  one  of  the  most  striking  forms  that  human 
energy  ever  assumed. 

Epictetus  was  born  about  50  a.d.,  or  perhaps  a  little  earlier,  at 
Hieropolis  in  Phrygia,  and  was  taken  to  Rome  as  a  slave.  As  such 
he  lived  there  in  the  time  of  Nero.  Epaphroditus,  his  master,  had 
him  educated  by  the  Stoic  noble  Musonius  Rufus,  whom  we  have 
already  named.  He  grew  enthusiastic  over  the  instruction  of  Muso- 
nius, Avhich  became  the  object  of  a  passionate  faith  on  his  part,  the 
very  formula  of  his  life.  Liberated  at  some  unknown  date,  he  still 
lived  at  Rome  under  Vespasian  and  Titus,  and  for  a  time  under 
Domitian.  When  the  latter  expelled  the  philosophers  from  Italy 
(94  A.D.),  Epictetus  retired  to  Nicopolis  in  Epirus.     There  he  lived, 

1  Editions:  Schweighauser,  Epiftct'o;  Pbilosophice  Monnrupjita,  5  vols., 
Leipsic,  1709-1800  ;  Diibner.  Epirtfti  Dissfrtntinnes,  Frnr/mpnta,  ct  Enchiridion, 
cum  Commentarin  Simplicii,  with  a  Jyatin  translation,  in  the  volume  with  the 
Characters  of  Tiieophrastus.  Paris,  Didot,  1848  ;  Schenkl,  Epicteti  Dissertn- 
tiojies.  accfditnt  Fragiupnta,  Enchiriilion,  frnomologiorum  Epicteteorum  Reli- 
ijiiice,  Leipsic,  Teubner,  1804. 

English  translations  by  Iligginson,  2  vols.,  Boston,  1890  ;  and  Long,  2  vols., 
London,  1891.     The  Manual  is  translated  by  Kolleston,  London,  1888. 

Consult:  Martha,  Lfs  Mnralintj's  sous  V Empire  romain,  5th  ed.,  Paris, 
188G  ;  Schenkl,  the  prolegomena  of  his  edition.  Farrar,  /Seekers  After  God, 
often  ropubli.shed. 


Tlie  Hellenic  Revival  495 

under  Nerva  and  Trajan,  and  in  the  early  years  of  Hadrian's  reign 
until  about  125.  He  led  a  life  of  poverty  and  had  no  family,  yet 
he  was  not  isolated.  Numerous  disciples  surrounded  him ;  travellers 
paused  to  visit  him  ;  his  reputation  spread  far  and  wide  and  brought 
him  admirers  and  disciples.  Among  these,  in  the  last  years  of 
Trajan's  reign,  Avas  probably  the  young  Bithynian,  Arrian  of  Nico- 
media,  the  future  historian.  Charmed  with  the  instruction  of  his 
master,  he  reduced  it  to  writing,  and  so  made  it  possible  for  us  to 
read  what  the  philosopher  thought.  There  were  two  collections,  the 
Conversations  (\LaTpL/3aL)  and  the  Manual  ('Ey_;^£tpt8tov). 

The  Conversations,  of  which  we  have  approximately  half,  was  com- 
posed in  four  books  from  notes  taken  from  day  to  day.  Arrian  repro- 
duced, not  the  lessons  simply,  but  the  familiar  conversations  on 
subjects  concerning  morals  which  Epictetus  held  in  his  presence, 
whether  with  other  disciples  or  with  visitors.  The  book  was  written 
without  revision ;  it  is  the  faithful  reproduction  of  what  Arrian 
heard,  the  living  voice,  caught  and  noted  down  in  its  primal  origi- 
nality. Later,  seeing  how  profitable  the  moral  lessons  were  to  many 
persons,  Arrian  tried  to  put  the  essential  matters  which  they  con- 
tained into  a  small  volume,  which  he  called  the  Manual.  This  has 
been  transmitted  to  us.  In  every  way  it  was  to  be  a  practical  work ; 
and  every  one  was  to  find  in  it  the  necessary  help  in  need,  the  salu- 
tary warning  in  time  of  trial,  and  the  consolation  that  brings  comfort 
in  sorrow. 

Epictetus  was  original,  not  in  his  doctrine,  as  he  taught  only 
traditional  Stoicism,  but  in  the  personal  sentiment  that  breathed 
in  his  lessons.  Though  a  slave,  he  sought  in  Stoic  morals  the  en- 
franchisement of  his  soul.  In  youth  he  had  conceived  the  idea  of 
moral  liberty,  and  when  grown  he  pursued  it  with  passionate  ardor. 
According  to  the  Stoic  morals  and  psychology  which  he  adopted, 
the  human  will  is  independent  of  everything  but  itself  ;  nothing  can 
constrain  it.  If  man  submits  to  servitude  in  morals,  it  is  because  he 
consents  to  do  so.  He  is  the  slave  of  his  desires  and  fears,  if  he  con- 
cerns himself  about  what  is  valueless,  or  what  he  has  no  power 
to  alter.  He  who  desires  only  moral  good  and  fears  only  moral  evil 
is  absolutely  free.  All  morals  is  an  education  of  the  mind  bringing  it 
to  accept  this  liberating  truth.  That  is  what  Epictetus  proclaimed 
constantly  and  with  absolute  faith.  Tenacious  and  ingenuous,  im- 
pelled always  in  one  direction  by  incomparable  moral  energy,  he  was 
a  man  of  one  idea  whom  nothing  embarrassed  or  caused  to  swerve. 

The  great  business  of  philosophy,  he  contended,  is  not  to  estal> 
lish  these  principles,  which  to  him  seemed  self-evident,  but  to  cause 
them  to  be  influential  in  all  our  acts  and  sentiments.     Under  everv 


496  Greek  Literature 

circumstance,  particularly  the  unforeseen  one,  they  are  to  be  applied, 
and  that  so  promptly  that  even  brusque  impression,  sudden  desire, 
instinctive  fear  —  in  a  word,  every  rapid  impulse  that  carries  away 
the  soul  before  it  is  put  on  its  guard  —  may  be  resisted.  In  out- 
lining this  philosophy  he  employed  all  the  resources  of  his  powerful 
mind:  active,  convincing  dialectic,  clear  insight,  pungent  sarcasm, 
bold  and  familiar  irony,  and  an  imagination  capable  of  suggesting 
always  the  most  appropriate  metaphor. 

Perhaps  his  chief  weakness  lay  in  the  very  strength  and  charm 
of  his  personality.  However  noble  his  intentions  or  lofty  his  ideal, 
he  is  too  positive.  One  would  fain  see  in  his  teaching  more  reserve, 
more  hesitation,  more  sympathy  with  human  weakness.  His  harsh- 
ness grows  embarrassing.  As  a  devotee  of  impersonal  reason,  he 
treats  with  violence  the  man  whom  he  would  heal.  He  denies  him 
the  affections  of  home,  the  charm  of  friendship,  the  pleasure  of 
study,  delight  in  beauty,  and  all  that,  for  the  majority  of  men,  can 
make  life  worth  living.  A  philosophy  so  opposed  to  natural  senti- 
ment may  win  one's  admiration  but  can  scarcely  gain  one's  love. 

Yet  there  is  evident  the  tendency  to  universalize  already  noted. 
He  addresses  himself  to  man  as  man,  demanding  no  special  initiation, 
attaching  himself  to  the  doctrines  of  no  city  and  to  no  religious  cult, 
but  appealing  solely  to  reason.  Hence  the  Manual  is  one  of  those 
rare  books  tliat  belong  to  all  time  and  every  country.  As  the  inspir- 
ing spirit  of  the  system,  he  continued  to  be  ever  a  source  of  moral 
potency  and  lofty  inspiration,  because  he  introduced  so  much  of 
truth  into  his  brief  formulas  and  striking  pictures. 

3.  Dio  Chrysostom.^  —  The  moral  doctrine  of  Epictetus  is  almost 
the  same  as  that  found  in  his  contemporary,  the  orator  and  philoso- 
pher Dio,  surnamed  by  his  auditors  Clirysostom  (Gold-mouth).  But 
while  it  appeared  at  Nicopolis  in  a  form  austere  even  to  severity, 
it  was  clothed  in  the  discourse  of  Dio  with  a  joyous  grace  which 
made  it  infinitely  more  attractive. 

Born  about  40  a.d.  at  Prusa,  in  Bithynia,  Dio  belonged  to  one 
of  the  foremost  families  of  his  native  city.  In  youth  he  felt  the 
charm  of  oratory  and  devoted  himself  to  it.  It  was  the  time,  as  we 
shall  soon  see,  when  rhetoric,  in  its  new  form,  was  having  a  contin- 
ually increasing  success.  l>etween  the  ages  of  thirty  and  forty,  under 
the  reigns  of  Vespasian  and  Titus,  Dio  seems  to  have  become  a  famous 
lecturer.     He  met  with  apjjlause  from  the  Orient  and  the  Occident 

1  L.  Dhidorf,  Dianis  Chiyso.^tnmi  Or'Hirnus.'l  vols.,  Leipsic,  Teubner,  1857  ; 
Hans  von  Aniiiii,  Dioiiis^  I'msncntfis  fpta:  fxtnnt  Omnia,  2  vols.,  Berlin,  189.3- 

IS'.M). 

(Consult :  Martha,  Lrs  Moralistes,  sup.  cit. ;  II.  von  Arnim,  Lf-hcn  und  Wt'vke 
(/'.-■  Dio  ton  Pnisn.  Berlin.  18'J8. 


The  Hellenic  Revival  497 

—  in  Greece,  Egypt,  and  Kome.  Even  imperial  favor  does  not  seem 
to  have  passed  him  by ;  but  an  unforeseen  incident  brusquely  brought 
this  to  an  end.  In  82,  implicated  by  Domitian  in  the  disgrace  of 
Flavins  Sabinus,  he  received  an  interdiction  forbidding  him  to  live 
in  either  Italy  or  Bithynia.  In  exile,  under  suspicion,  half-ruined, 
he  saw  all  his  hopes  vanish.  His  ill  fortune  continued  fourteen 
years.  Far  from  becoming  weak,  however,  he  fortified  his  heart  by 
means  of  his  very  misfortune.  Assuming  the  part  of  a  poor  wan- 
derer, he  strolled  through  Greece  among  the  common  people,  re-read- 
ing, for  his  consolation,  according  to  Philostratus,  two  books  he  had 
brought  with  him,  Plato's  Pha'do  and  the  oration  of  Demosthenes 
On  the  Embassy.  Forced  to  reflection  and  the  consolation  of  his 
sorrow,  he  turned  to  philosophy.  The  period  of  trouble  came  to  an 
end  in  96,  with  the  advent  of  Nerva,  who  was  his  friend.  He  returned 
to  Prusa.  The  change  of  fortune  was  not  to  bring  with  it  a  change 
of  moral  disposition.  His  last  years  were  employed  chiefly  in  travels, 
which  might  almost  be  called  ''missions."  Like  the  sophists,  he 
went  from  city  to  city ;  but  instead  of  treating  frivolous  subjects 
as  they  did,  he  devoted  himself  to  serious  moral  preaching.  He 
spoke  thus  at  Apamea,  Tarsus,  Alexandria,  and  many  other  places. 
He  even  came  to  Kome,  where  several  times  he  addressed  Trajan, 
who  held  him  in  high  esteem.  He  probably  died  toward  the  close 
of  that  prince's  reign.     His  wife  and  his  son  had  already  passed  away. 

He  wrote  extensively.  Some  of  his  works  have  disappeared, 
notably  his  Letters  and  a  History  of  the  Getce  (TeTLKo),  which  he  wrote 
during  his  exile.  But  his  reputation  was  won  by  his  discourses. 
They  Avere  collected,  and  a  considerable  number  of  them  have  been 
preserved.  Our  collection,  though  much  confused,  comprises  some 
whole  discourses  and  some  fragments.  Three  well-marked  groups 
can  be  distinguished :  the  sophistic,  the  political,  and  the  moral. 
The  first  belong  to  the  early  part  of  his  life,  and  are  like  the  frivo- 
lous, glossy  eloquence  then  fashionable.  They  are  the  least  interest- 
ing of  all.  The  political  discourses  belong,  in  general,  to  his  maturity 
and  are  mostly  later  than  his  exile.  They  pertain  to  the  affairs 
of  Bithynia,  to  discords  among  the  inhabitants  of  ]^rusa,  or  the  con- 
flicting interests  between  that  city  and  Xica^a  or  Nioomedia.  They 
are  very  interesting  as  docimients  concerning  the  history  of  Greek 
Asia  imder  Roman  dominion.  The  moral  discourses  are  connected 
with  his  formal  preacliing.  They  all  come  from  the  last  period  of 
his  life,  and  are  the  most  important  and  beautiful  in  the  collection. 
Only  in  them  does  his  real  originality  appear. 

His  real  function  was  that  of  popularizing,  or  trying  to  popularize, 
the  moral  doctrines  of  philosophy.     His  ideas  are  obtained  from  the 


498  Greek  Literature 

syncretism  of  the  times  —  mostly  Stoic,  yet  influenced  by  the  Acad- 
emy, the  Lyceum,  and  the  teaching  of  the  Pythagoreans.  His 
theology  tends  to  be  Platonic,  yet  not  ostensibly  so.  It  has  elements 
obtained  from  Pythagoreanism  and  from  popular  mythology.  Really 
he  is  not  so  much  a  philosopher  as  an  eloquent  interpreter  of 
philosophy,  which  is  very  different.  In  the  schools  he  found  cer- 
tain great  moral  and  religious  truths,  which  seemed  ignored  or 
misunderstood  by  the  multitude ;  and  he  applied  himself  to  explain- 
ing them — or  rather  making  the  application  of  them  to  particular 
cases  among  his  auditors.  He  strove  to  deduce  from  theories 
reserved  for  specialists  what  seemed  necessary  for  all  men.  His  was 
a  work  of  wide  popularization,  aiming  to  spread  abroad  the  best 
parts  of  Hellenic  wisdom.  This  is  the  essence  of  the  Discourses  to 
the  Alexandrians,  to  the  citizens  of  Tarsus,  to  those  of  Celsenae, 
to  the  Cilicians,  of  his  Olympiaca,  his  Borysthenitica,  his  discourse 
to  Trajan  On  Royalty,  and,  in  brief,  of  all  his  most  celebrated  oratori- 
cal compositions.  Even  his  Euboica,  which  starts  like  a  rustic  story, 
a  pastoral  idyll  in  prose,  is  in  fact  an  exhortation  to  toil,  simplicity 
of  manners,  and  fraternal  harmony.  Never  had  so  earnest  an  attempt 
been  made  to  bring  as  many  men  as  possible  to  the  understanding 
and  possession  of  a  salutary  ideal. 

His  mission  needed  faith,  courage,  enthusiasm,  and  a  peculiar 
talent  such  as  he  possessed.  His  manner  was  that  of  contemporary 
sophists ;  like  them,  he  spoke  in  lecture-rooms,  sometimes  in  theatres, 
but  with  extraordinary  boldness  and  frankness.  His  great  popularity 
assured  him  an  attentive  audience ;  and  his  misfortunes,  so  nobly 
borne,  won  the  sympathy  of  the  public.  Under  Trajan,  he  was  Avell 
known,  even  at  court.  Yet  all  this  Avould  probably  have  failed  to 
establish  his  reputation,  had  he  not  added  the  piquant  charm  of  his 
spirit.  His  oratory  is  a  strange  mixture  of  gracious  fancy,  brilliant 
and  ingenious  invention,  keen  word  play,  witty  raillery,  and  high 
moral  inspiration.  He  imitates  Socrates  in  concealing  his  wisdom 
beneath  a  sujjerficial  irony,  amusing  his  public  by  sallies  of  wit, 
charming  it  with  homely  comparisons,  and  then  suddenly,  changing 
tone,  surprising  and  captivating  it  with  grave  meditations.  Xo  doubt 
there  was  in  his  oratory  something  of  the  sopliistic  manner  of  his 
contemporaries.  His  style  was  dainty,  his  thought  much  occupied 
with  matters  of  trifling  value  ;  but,  with  all  his  defects,  he  had  a 
clever  charm  that  is  manifest  even  in  our  day.  Among  the  writers 
of  the  time,  he  is  certainly  one  of  the  most  amiable. 

4_EliUgrch:  his  Life  and  Writings.'  —  Neither  of  the  two  men 

1  Dohner  und  Dlibner,  Plutarrhi  Vitcc  and  rintarchi  Moralia,  -5  vols.,  with 
ihe  fragments  and  a  Latin  translation,  Paris,  Didot,   1840-18.35  ;  Sintenis  und 


The  Hellenic  Revival  499 

whom  we  have  mentioned  could  equal  Plutarch  in  the  work  of 
enlarging  Hellenism  which  we  are  considering.  Epictetus  was  too 
subservient  to  a  fixed  idea  and  Dio  too  much  occupied  with  things  of 
the  day,  to  make  their  reputations  either  permanent  or  universal. 
But  Plutarch  was  not  only  one  of  the  most  illustrious  men  of  his 
generation,  but  one  who,  among  the  ancient  writers,  is  to-day  best 
liked  and  most  influential.  He  was  always  being  cited  by  Hellenic 
authorities;  and  his  good  fortune  was  due,  not  to  happy  chance,  but 
to  the  possession  of  qualities  which  put  him  at  once  among  men 
of  genius. 

He  was  born  at  Chaeronea  in  Bceotia,  a  little  before  50  a.d.,  and 
belonged  to  an  ancient  family  of  pure  Hellenic  descent,  which  owned 
considerable  property  there.  It  was  an  old  family  on  an  old  domain. 
The  home  abounded  in  traditions.  The  family  was  strong  and  intel- 
ligent, with  the  simple  manners  of  the  middle  class,  religious  and 
patriotic,  yet  not  adverse  to  the  ideas  of  the  day.  His  infancy  was 
passed  partly  with  his  grandfather,  Lamprias,  a  clever  old  man  and  a 
story-teller ;  and  partly  with  his  father,  Nicarchus,  who  was  upright 
and  sensible,  and  two  brothers,  Lamprias  and  Timon.  Afterward  he 
spent  some  years  at  Athens,  studying  rhetoric,  science,  and  philosophy. 
His  favorite  teacher  seems  to  have  been  the  Platonist  Ammonius. 
When  grown,  he  travelled,  sometimes  on  business,  sometimes  for  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  the  world.  He  visited  Greece,  Egypt,  and  Italy, 
living  at  Rome  in  the  reign  of  Vespasian.  As  was  customary,  he 
gave  lectures  on  philosophy  there.  He  soon  returned  to  Chceronea, 
and  that  was  afterward  his  home.  When  he  had  attained  fame,  it 
seemed  to  him,  he  says,  that  "  being  born  in  a  small  city,  he  would 
make  it  smaller  still  if  he  went  away."  He  loved  his  native  place, 
and  grew  old  there  in  peace,  surrounded  by  his  family,  his  books, 
and  the  numbers  of  friends  who  came  to  visit  him.  Sometimes  he 
went  to  Athens,  often  to  Delphi  —  whither  his  priestly  functions 
carried  him  —  and  also  to  the  baths  of  Thermopylae  or  of  .Edepsos 
in  Euboea.  No  one  had  a  greater  liking  for  society  than  he ;  all  the 
time  that  he  did  not  pass  in  reading  or  writing  was  spent,  if  possible, 

Bernanlakis,  Vitm  ParalU'l(S,  and  Mnralia,  11  vols.,  Leipsic,  Teubner,  1852- 
1895;  Hekker,  Leipsic,  Tauchnitz,  185')-1857  ;  7>  Musir(i,  with  French  trans- 
lation and  notes,  by  Weil  and  Keinach,  Paris,  Leroux,  1900 ;  Moralia,  by 
Wyttenbach,  15  vols.,  Oxford,  1795-1830. 

English  translation  of  the  I'drallcl  Lives  by  Clough,  London,  1876  ;  of  the 
Moralia  by  Goodwin,  Boston.  1870  ;  of  the  Thcmistocles  and  Aristides,  with 
introduction  and  notes,  by  Ji.  Terrin,  New  York,  Scribners,  1901. 

Consult :  the  excursus  in  Wyttenbach's  edition  ;  R.  Volkmann,  Leben, 
Schiiftfiii.  nnd  FhUosophie  dcs  Phiturch  von  Chceronea,  Berlin,  187.S  ;  Gerard, 
De  la  Morale  de  Plutarque,  Paris,  18GG;  Ch.  L^veque,  Un  Medecin  de  VAme 
Chez  les  Grecs  (Rev.  des  Deux-Mondes,  1807)  ;  Michaelis,  De  Online  Vitarum 
Parallelarum  Plutarchi,  Berlin,  1875. 


600  Greek  Literature 

in  conversation.  His  Table  Talk  is  made  up  of  notes  of  his  daily 
conversation.  He  took  such  notes  throughout  his  life.  Voluntarily 
holding  aloof  from  politics,  he  accepted,  in  the  way  of  public 
honors,  only  the  modest  offices  of  agoranomos  and  archon  eponymiis 
of  Chseronea.  Trajan  and  Hadrian  seem  to  have  shown  him  par- 
ticular marks  of  esteem,  but  our  information  here  is  not  precise. 
He  died  in  Hadrian's  reign,  probably  about  125. 

Our  collection  of  his  writings  seems  to  have  been  formed  in  the 
tenth  century,  when  his  work  had  already  suffered  heavy  loss.  It 
was  established  from  manuscripts  containing  many  lacunae ;  and  the 
editor  who  formed  it  readily  accepted  non-authentic  works.  Hence 
arises  a  series  of  critical  questions,  many  of  which  are  far  from  being 
solved.  We  shall  not  touch  upon  them  here.  All  that  we  can  at- 
tempt to  do  is  to  show  from  some  of  the  chief  works,  whose  authen- 
ticity is  certain,  what  are  his  characteristic  traits. 

His  works  are  commonly  divided  into  two  groups  of  almost  equal 
importance:  the  Parallel  Lives  and  the  collection  called,  very  im- 
properly, the  3forals  ('H^ixa,  moral ia.)  Eeally  the  second  group  is 
miscellaneous,  and  many  of  the  works  in  it  have  no  connection  at 
all  with  morals. 

5.  General  Characteristics  of  Plutarch's  Work.  —  He  was  a  writer  on 
many  subjects.  He  wrote  constantly  and  about  everything.  This 
hindered  him  from  writing  any  one  great  work.  Extensive  and 
varied  scholarship  was  the  source  of  his  immense  literary  produc- 
tion. No  one  heard,  read,  learned,  or  retained  more.  History,  ar- 
chaeology, philosophy,  natural  and  mathematical  sciences,  medicine, 
music,  grammar,  literature,  every  domain  of  contemporary  knowl- 
edge he  seems  to  have  explored.  Throughout  his  life  he  took  notice 
of  everything.  Owing  evidently  to  an  admirable  memory,  his  obser- 
vations were  in  readiness  whenever  he  needed  them.  To  erudition, 
he  added  the  gift  of  keen  perception.  "With  his  attentive,  alert  mind, 
he  watched  constantly,  and  knew  the  art  of  seeing  accurately;  what 
he  had  seen,  he  retained.  He  collected  an  incredible  store  of  facts, 
anecdotes,  and  remarks  which,  increasing  day  by  day,  permitted 
him  to  speak  and  write  on  every  subject,  in  an  interesting  and 
precise  manner. 

His  facility,  it  is  true,  had  its  inconveniences.  It  made  it  seem 
needless  to  do  intense  thinking.  He  was  not  the  man  to  pour  out 
indiscriminately  in  writing  or  conversation  a  mass  of  facts,  without 
putting  anything  of  his  own  into  tliem ;  on  the  contrary,  his  active, 
meditative  mind,  his  untiring,  independent,  sincere  spirit,  loved  to 
tliink,  and  thought  on  every  sul)ject.  He  had  enough  force  of 
reason  to  be  able  to  arrange  methodically  his  materials  and  adapt 


The  Hellenic  Revival  601 

them  to  the  schemes  he  had  conceived.  Nothing  would  be  morel 
unjust  than  to  regard  him  as  a  mere  compiler,  or  even  an  arranger 
lacking  originality.  In  all  that  he  wrote  something  of  his  own 
personality  is  present  and  enhances  its  value.  Everywhere  one  sees 
the  honest  man,  the  man  of  ready  penetration  and  fine  sympathies, 
the  observer,  the  graceful  story-teller,  and,  more  generally,  the  Greek 
possessed  of  his  own  opinions,  clear-sighted,  and  keen  in  his  sense  of 
the  good  and  the  beautiful.  What  he  lacked  was  the  faculty  or  habit 
of  continuous  meditation  on  one  subject.  He  had  so  many  resources 
close  at  hand  that  he  did  not  care  to  seek  the  others.  Educated 
chiefly  by  conversation,  he  wrote  with  the  same  ready  facility  that  he 
would  use  in  talking,  without  pausing  to  go  to  the  depth  of  things. 

Most  of  his  writings  are  dissertations,  almost  lectures.  There  is 
an  easily  comprehended  general  idea,  quickly  indicated,  a  few  simple 
main  divisions,  and  in  each  a  varied,  amusing,  instructive  exposi- 
tion, in  which  anecdotes  are  mingled  with  reflections.  All  this 
forms  a  brilliant,  many-colored  fabric,  that  attracts  the  eye.  Yet 
his  art,  on  close  examination,  is  superficial ;  his  leading  thought  is 
often  feeble,  and  even  commonplace. 

Like  Plato,  he  composed  Dialogues,  of  which  we  have  fifteen. 
The  best  are  those  in  which  he  introduces  himself  either  under  his 
own  or  a  fictitious  name,  with  his  brothers,  his  friends,  and  real  «r 
imaginary  persons  in  contemporary  society.  Some  dialogues  are 
represented  as  taking  place  at  Delphi ;  and  though  he  does  not  fully 
turn  to  profit  the  resources  of  art  which  that  setting  offered,  there 
is  a  natural  harmony  between  the  associations  of  the  place  and  the 
sentiments  expressed,  which  gives  the  latter  enhanced  value.  His 
character-painting,  though  without  much  relief,  is  not  by  any  means 
weak.  In  short,  his  works  possess  a  moderate  degree  of  art,  with- 
out being  works  of  art  in  the  strict  sense.  Too  much  dissertation 
is  incorporated  with  the  dialogue ;  and  it  has  the  merits  and  defects 
which  we  have  just  noticed  as  characteristic  of  the  man  himself. 

The  biography  exemplified  in  his  Parallel  Lives  is  marked  by 
similar  defects.  We  shall  consider  these  more  closely  in  dealing 
with  his  work  as  a  historian.  We  shall  need  also,  however,  to  com- 
mend him  for  having  introduced  something  uniquely  character- 
istic of  himself,  something  that  he  may  almost  be  said  to  have 
ap})ropriated. 

His  style  is  far  from  classic.  Brought  up  in  the  schools  of  phi- 
losophy, his  language  was  indifferent,  abounding  in  abstract  terms, 
new  words,  and  commonplace  or  obscure  expressions.  Even  his 
taste  is  not  always  pure.  Fine  writing  and  affectation  are  some- 
times found.      It  was  the  tone  and  language  of  the  society  in  which 


502  Greek  Literature 

he  lived,  and  he  could  not  rid  himself  of  it  altogether ;  by  nature  he 
tended  to  simplicity.  Though  not  a  great  writer,  he  wrote  well. 
He  repudiated  the  scruples  of  contemporary  purists,  yet  did  not  sanc- 
tion negligence.  His  native  qualities,  ingenuity,  good  grace,  delicacy, 
and  wit  are  apparent  in  his  expression  just  as  in  his  thought. 

6.  Plutarch  as  a  Philosopher  and  Moralist.  —  By  profession,  he 
considered  himself  a  philosopher;  and,  indeed,  philosophy  is  the 
principal  element  of  his  work.  But  it  is  philosophy  in  the  broad, 
ancient  sense  of  the  word,  including  not  only  theology,  logic,  morals, 
and  psychology,  but  also  mathematics  and  natural  sciences,  and  in 
general  the  knowledge  and  the  desire  to  know  all  that  could  be 
known  about  God,  man,  and  the  universe. 

As  a  disciple  of  the  Platonist  Ammonius,  he  considered  Plato  as 
his  master.  He  had  studied  his  teaching  from  youth  up,  regarding 
it  as  the  best,  and  continuing  to  regard  it  thus  till  the  end  of  his 
life.  His  treatise  On  the  Psychology  of  the  Timveus,  his  Platonic  Ques- 
tions, and  many  passages  of  his  other  writings  show  that  he  had  the 
works  of  the  great  philosopher  beside  him  constantly,  meditated  upon 
them,  and  tried  to  interpret  them  and  elucidate  their  difficulties. 
He  was  not  ignorant  of  the  rival  doctrines,  but  rejected  them.  He 
wrote,  against  the  Stoics,  several  dissertations  sometimes  resembling 
dialogues ;  notably  On  the  Stuic  Contradictions  and  On  the  Stoic 
Paradoxes.  Against  the  Epicureans,  he  waged  a  still  fiercer  war, 
as  in  the  Refutation  of  Culotes,  the  dialogue  On  the  Lnpossihilit;/  of 
Living  happibj  by  following  Epicurus,  and  the  few  pages  against  the 
maxim  that  "  one  must  hide  one's  personality."  These  are  profound 
and  well-pondered  differences  of  opinion.  Plutarch  was  a  Pla- 
tonist with  all  his  heart  —  not  from  meditation  only,  but  also  from 
natural  tendency  and  unalterable  inclination  ;  for  Platonism,  with  its 
lofty  spirituality,  its  passionate  love  of  the  good  and  the  beautiful, 
its  deeply  religious  spirit,  was,  as  it  were,  the  necessary  form  of  his 
thinking  and  sentiment.  Yet  ]*lutarch"s  Platonism  is  no  mere 
reproduction  of  what  Plato  tauglit.  Like  all  his  contemporaries, 
wliether  intentionally  or  not,  he  associated  with  Plato's  system  ideas 
obtained  from  various  sources.  He  even  borrowed  from  the  Stoics, 
and  sometimes  from  the  Epicureans,  whom  lie  o})posed;  but  al)Ove 
all  from  Aristotle  and  the  Peripatetics,  whom  he  was  wont  to 
l)ass  by  in  silence,  or  from  the  I'ytliagoreans,  wliom  he  adinired 
witliout  formally  accei)ting  them  as  masters.  This  is  no  ]>lace 
for  analyzing  his  i)hilosoi)hy.  He  is  generally  and  })roj)erly  con- 
sidered one  of  the  forerunners  of  Xeo-Platonism,  already  having 
its  profound  tendency  to  eclecticism  in  theology  and  its  belief  in  a 
divine  hierarchj*,  a  whole  series  of  beings  intermediate  between  God 


The  Hellenic  Revival  503 

and  man.  In  his  treatises,  On  the  EJ  at  Delphi,  On  the  Orades  of  the 
Pythia,  On  the  Cessation  of  Orades,  On  the  Delays  of  Divine  Ven- 
geance, and  On  Isis  and  Osiris,  he  shows  himself  not  merely  a  defender 
of  the  idea  of  God  and  of  faith  in  His  intervention  in  human  affairs, 
but  also  of  theories  really  original,  at  least  in  their  importance,  con- 
cerning demons  or  geniuses,  whom  men  have  been  duped  to  adore  as 
gods,  but  whom  philosophy  distinguishes  with  care  from  the  true 
God,  the  Infallible  and  Immutable.  With  a  similar  conception,  he 
explains  or  justifies  the  various  forms  of  polytheism,  excuses  its 
errors,  and  deduces  from  the  vulgar  or  even  contradictory  systems  of 
mythology  the  concept  of  a  universal  God,  of  whom  human  intelli- 
gence has  glimpses,  without  comprehending  Him  in  full. 

For  most  modern  readers,  the  best  part  of  his  philosophy  is  not 
his  theology  so  much  as  his  morals.  No  one  has  written  more  on 
moral  subjects.  A  moralist  by  instinct,  he  was  one  always  and 
everywhere,  in  every  sense  of  the  word.  His  doctrine  is  liberal :  he 
is  equally  opposed  to  asceticism  and  to  looseness  of  life;  what  he 
loves  and  recommends  is  a  just  mean.  He  would  stifle  no  human 
sentiment  whatever.  He  does  not  inveigh  against  friendship,  love, 
domestic  and  jjolitical  affiliations,  nor  delicate  pleasures,  but  intends 
that  man  shall  be  always  self-controlled,  and  obedient  to  reason  (On 
Moral  Virtue,  That  Virtue  can  be  Taught,  On  Virtue  and  Vice).  He 
stops  but  little  over  generalities.  What  interests  him  most  is  the 
application  of  principles  to  daily  life  ;  and  therein  he  excels. 

Many  of  his  writings  show  him  to  be,  as  some  one  has  said,  a 
veritable  "  physician  of  the  soul,"  pointing  out  the  faults  of  those 
who  consult  him,  indicating  remedies,  multi})lying  warnings,  en- 
couraging the  feeble,  consoling  the  unhapi)y,  and  putting  peace  into 
troubled  hearts  (On  Restraint  of  Anger,  On  Prattling,  On  Indiscretion, 
On  False  Shame,  On  Env;i,  On  the  Desire  for  Jiiches,  On  Praising 
Oneself  icithout  offending  Others,  On  Progress  in  Virtue,  On  Peace  of 
Soul,  On  Exile,  The  Consolation  to  his  Wife).  In  some  of  these,  ad- 
dressing friends  conscious  of  their  defects  and  wishing  to  overcome 
them,  he  institutes,  with  a  remarkable  combination  of  practical  sense 
and  ingenious  originality,  a  methodical  course  of  treatment,  in  which 
nothing  is  left  to  chance.  Elsewhere,  for  those  whom  unforeseen 
calamity  has  visited,  he  expresses  his  own  personal  sentiments  in 
place  of  the  trite  consolations  of  the  schools.  But  really  high  merit 
is  wanting  here  as  elsewhere.  He  does  not  have  the  depth  of  a  great 
moralist,  the  boldness  of  a  genius  in  satire,  nor  the  eloquence  of  him 
who  lifts  the  human  soul  to  heaven.  Yet  subtlety,  goodness,  amiable 
and  pitjuant  grace,  with  abundance  of  allusions,  a  gift  for  story-telling, 
and  sincere  zeal  which  nothing  can  discourage  —  these  he  has.     As 


504  Greek  Literature 

a  counsellor,  he  encourages  all  the  sentiments  that  promote  the 
domestic  and  social  interests ;  for  his  moral  teaching  looks  always 
to  the  development  of  social  life.  His  Precepts  on  Marriage,  his 
writings  On  Brotherly  Love,  On  Many  Friends,  On  Distinguishing 
Friendship  from  Flattery,  his  Political  Precepts,  and  the  treatise  On 
whether  an  Old  Man  should  retire  from  Public  Life,  form  together  a 
practical  course  on  domestic  and  social  morals,  in  which  active  mod- 
eration is  still  extolled.  He  sees,  indeed,  difficulties  and  dangers  in 
all  sorts  of  things;  but  far  from  concluding  that  they  should  be 
avoided  from  fear  or  chagrin,  he  encourages  man  to  mingle  in  the 
affairs  of  his  fellows.  His  work  on  Ilotv  the  Young  should  read  the 
Poets  is  that  of  a  prudent  educator,  who  is  unwilling  to  sacrifice  to 
unfounded  scruples  the  profit  which  a  perusal  of  the  great  works  of 
poetic  genius  confers. 

7.  Plutarch  as  a  Historian :  the  Parallel  Lives.  Value  of  his  Work 
as  a  Whole.  —  However  renowned  he  has  been  and  still  is  as  a  mor- 
alist, his  greatest  popularity  is  based  on  his  historical  works ;  and 
among  these  there  is  only  one  of  moment,  the  collection  of  Parallel 
Lives.  No  book  of  antiquity  is  better  known ;  and  though  it  was 
not  a  work  of  genius,  there  is  scarcely  any  other  that  merits  being 
read  more  often. 

He  did  not  create  biography.  He  found  it  already  honored  and 
sanctioned  by  long  tradition.  In  writing  the  Parallel  Lives  he  had 
no  thought  of  doing  anything  new.  But,  in  a  rather  vaguely  de- 
fined type,  he  constituted,  by  his  manner  of  writing,  a  particular 
form  that  was  his  own.     This  we  must  try  to  define  and  appreciate. 

We  still  have  fifty  of  the  biographies  that  he  composed ;  and  we 
know  that  he  wrote  others.  Forty-six  are  in  pairs,  and  form  the 
collection  of  Parallel  Lives;  the  other  four,  those  of  Aratus,  Arta- 
xerxes,  Otho,  and  Galba,  are  isolated.  In  general,  the  lives  seem  to 
have  been  composed  without  much  interruption  from  the  time  of  his 
full  maturity  to  that  of  his  extreme  old  age.  They  belong  to  the 
same  period  as  most  of  the  moral  works,  and  show  the  same  ten- 
dencies in  matters  of  belief.  The  establishment  of  a  chronological 
order  of  composition  among  them  is  a  task  which  modern  criticism 
has  attempted,  but  with  very  incomplete  success. 

A  moral  purpose  manifestly  predominates  in  them  all  over  the 
purely  historical  one:  "History,"  he  says,  "was  for  me  almost  a 
mirror,  before  which  I  tried  to  beautify  my  life  by  making  it  con- 
form to  the  examples  of  great  men"  {Timoleon,  the  beginning). 
To  propose  examples  for  his  own  imitation  and  for  the  imitation  of 
others,  to  seek  useful  lessons  in  the  history  of  particular  men  active 
on  the  stage  of  the  world's  activity,  to  find  matter  for  reflection  and 


The  Hellenic  Revival  605 

for  the  solution  of  the  difficulties  of  life,  —  in  brief,  to  learn  to  live 
well :  this  is  his  principal  object.  History,  thus  conceived,  does  not 
have  its  end  in  itself;  it  is  a  mere  instrument  in  the  service  of 
morals.  This  is  an  essential  fact,  which  must  not  be  lost  sight  of 
in  appreciating  the  work;  yet  it  must  not  be  so  heavily  stressed 
that  it  obscures  the  historical  value.  In  reality,  though  the  general 
design  was  that  of  a  moralist,  the  fondness  for  curiosities  and  pretty 
stories  was  too  powerful  not  to  be  satisfied,  —  and  that  more  gener- 
ously than  his  plan,  if  rigorously  followed,  would  have  allowed. 

The  idea  of  proceeding  in  history  by  continued  comparisons 
between  men  of  different  races  was  not  original  with  him ;  but  he 
applied  it  with  a  systematic  persistence  which  shows  that  it  gave 
him  pleasure.  There  was  in  it  something  of  national  pride  on  his 
part :  to  every  great  Roman,  it  was  very  easy,  at  a  time  when  Greece 
was  no  longer  more  than  a  province  of  the  Empire,  to  oppose  one  of 
the  great  men  she  had  produced  when  she  was  free.  Then  the  par- 
allelism served  his  moral  purpose.  Each  pair  originally  ended  with 
a  comparison  (SuyKpio-ts),  which  gave  the  philosopher  occasion  to 
formulate  his  judgments,  and  to  deduce,  one  may  say,  the  moral  of 
his  stories.  The  inconvenience  of  proceeding  thus  might  have  been 
grave  from  another  point  of  view,  if  the  pursuit  of  the  parallelism 
had  induced  him  to  modify  insensibly  the  true  features  of  his  per- 
sonages for  the  sake  of  establishing  between  them  resemblances  or 
contrasts  imaginary  rather  than  real.  But  this  was  rarely  true.  It 
happened  often,  no  doubt,  that  he  arbitrarily  put  side  by  side  per- 
sonages whom  nothing  seemed  really  to  group  together ;  but  almost 
never  did  the  intention  of  comparing  them  distort  the  exposition  of 
facts.  All  one  can  say  is  that  the  singularly  fragile  frame  became 
gradually  disjointed ;  and  that  his  readers  acquired  more  and  more 
the  habit  of  considering  each  biography  by  itself. 

The  parallelism  rejected,  if  the  works  are  arranged  in  the  order 
of  time,  there  is  before  one's  eyes  an  immense  gallery  of  portraits, 
embracing  almost  completely  the  history  of  Rome  from  its  founda- 
tion to  the  end  of  the  republic  and  that  of  Greece  from  legendary 
times  to  the  last  struggles  for  national  independence.  By  its  variety 
and  the  importance  of  the  personages  introduced  it  is  of  extreme  in- 
terest. P>ut  one  must  understand  that  for  Plutarch,  biography,  even 
aside  from  the  inoral  purpose  mentioned  above,  was  more  tluui  a  mere 
phase  of  liistory.  It  had  its  original  character  and  its  peculiar  con- 
ditions, of  whicli  it  was  clearly  conscious.  "  What  I  have  chiefly 
endeavored  to  bring  together,"  he  says  at  the  beginning  of  his  Life 
of  Nicias,  "  is  the  traits  that  are  commonly  overlooked,  whether  these 
have  been  noticed  here  and  there  by  other  historians,  or  have  been 


606  Greek  Literature 

found  attested  by  monuments  and  ancient  decrees.  Not  wishing  to 
amass  facts  that  have  no  meaning,  I  have  selected  what  is  appropri- 
ate for  revealing  the  character  and  disposition  of  the  man."  This 
is  the  formula  of  his  method.  In  the  history  of  a  period,  he  centred 
his  interest  upon  a  man ;  and  in  this  man,  what  interested  him  most 
was  "the  character  and  disposition."  His  public  life,  his  great  deeds 
are  far  from  being  disdained ;  but  he  studied  them  chiefly  as  reveal- 
ing the  will,  the  sentiments,  the  character;  and  if  he  met  here  and 
there  in  the  historians  facts  obscure  and  insignificant  in  appearance, 
which  history  proper  scarcely  noted  in  passing,  but  which  seemed  fit 
to  illustrate  the  object  he  had  in  view,  he  devoted  himself  to  display- 
ing the  remote  corners  of  the  moral  nature,  and  did  not  shrink  from 
bringing  these  into  relief ;  for  this  was  precisely  his  intention. 

His  research  was  conducted  with  praiseworthy  zeal  and  absolute 
sincerity.  The  Lives  were  the  product  of  extensive  reading  and  con- 
scientious inquiry.  From  a  scientific  point  of  view,  one  may  censure 
them  for  their  utter  disregard  of  chronology  and  for  the  want  of 
criticism  that  is  everywhere  perceptible.  For  he  cannot  always  ap- 
preciate the  unequal  value  of  evidences.  He  confides  too  readily  in 
those  that  furnish  him  anecdotes,  even  suspicious  ones,  or  in  those 
that  charm  him  with  pretty  stories.  That  said,  however,  it  must  be 
admitted  that  the  Parallel  Lives  atone  for  these  defects  by  many 
merits.  They  put  before  us  illustrious  personages,  with  their  good 
qualities  and  their  faults,  their  graiideur  and  their  pettiness.  We 
see  them  live,  are  present  in  their  acts,  and  have  our  part  in  their 
sentiments.  We  are  taught,  affected,  and  amused.  They  afford  keen 
pleasure  to  any  one  who  is  interested  in  human  affairs.  History, 
thus  associated  with  a  few  men,  certainly  becomes  more  accessible 
to  such  minds  as  can  grasp  easily  only  what  is  individual  and  con- 
crete. The  characteristics  of  the  narrative  are  well  adapted  to  its 
purpose.  Plutarch  is  an  excellent  story-teller  —  a  narrator  in  the 
best  sense  of  the  word.  He  puts  into  trifling  matters  wit,  grace,  and 
an  apparent  candor,  which  makes  them  charming.  When  treating 
things  of  more  importance,  he  displays  certain  superior  qualities 
without  effort.  His  great  historic  pictures  win  fresh  admiration 
each  time  that  one  re-reads  them.  He  has  a  childlike  imagination, 
fond  of  great  spectacles,  sensitive  to  striking  traits  of  character,  to 
beauty,  magnanimity,  and  harshness.  His  heart  is  easily  touched, 
very  human  and  sensitive,  notwithstanding  his  philosophic  gravity. 
He  has  natural  sympathy,  which  makes  him  one  of  the  best  inter- 
preters of  the  tragedies  of  history.  His  accounts  are  filled,  if  not 
with  finished  dramas,  at  least  with  dramatic  scenes,  now  familiar, 
now  terrible,  and  singularly  true.      The  great  authors  of  tragedy, 


The  Hellenic  Revival  507 

notably  Corneille  and  Shakespeare,  made  liberal  use  of  his  themes 
and  often  followed  him  closely,  or  even  deigned  to  translate  his 
language. 

These  good  qualities  assured  a  legitimate  popularity  for  the 
Lives.  It  is  one  of  the  works  which  contributed  most  to  the  propa- 
gation of  Hellenic  influence,  because  it  is  one  of  those  that  most 
enlarged  Hellenism.  The  "  great  men  of  Plutarch,"  though  provok- 
ing a  smile  because,  as  he  conceived  them,  they  have  a  confidence  in 
their  goodness  which  seems  naive  to  unprejudiced  minds,  are  really 
noble  types  of  humanity.  They  represent  patriotism,  courage,  un- 
selfishness, loyalty  —  all  lofty  public  and  private  virtues,  under  a 
form  so  dignified  and  pure  that  it  no  longer  seems  exclusively  Greek 
or  Roman,  but  universal.  The  work  which  portrays  them  is  doubt- 
less one  of  those  which  have  formed  and  still  form  the  education 
of  the  noblest  elements  of  the  human  race. 

Accordingly  we  reach  a  definite  conclusion  respecting  Plutarch. 
Being  thoroughly  permeated  with  the  civilization  of  his  country, 
versed  in  its  history,  philosophy,  literature,  and  religion,  he  served 
it  as  a  witness  and  interpreter  before  posterity.  But  he  had  a  heart 
large  enough  and  a  mind  liberal  enough  to  understand  the  great  and 
beautiful  in  the  world  outside ;  and  so,  though  not  a  man  of  genius, 
he  attained  a  place  in  the  foremost  rank  of  those  who  developed  the 
civilization  which  it  has  been  ours  to  inherit. 

8.  Marcus  Aurelius.^  —  The  natural  order  of  things  brings  us  to 
place  beside  tnis  man  of  Hellenic  descent  a  Roman,  yet  one  pro- 
foundly Hellenized,  the  emperor  Marcus  Aurelius.  The  other  philoso- 
phers of  the  time  whose  names  might  be  cited,  even  Favorinus  of 
Arelate,  do  not  come  within  the  range  of  literary  history.  This 
prince  alone,  writing  for  himself  and  about  himself,  with  no  ambi- 
tion to  be  an  author,  merits  our  attention. 

His  life  is  part  of  history  in  general.  He  was  born  at  Rome  in 
121.  At  the  age  of  seventeen,  in  138,  he  was  adopted  by  Antoninus 
on  the  suggestion  of  Hadrian ;  the  same  year,  on  the  accession  of 
his  adopted  father  to  the  throne,  he  became  heir  ap])arent  of  the 
imperial  power.  After  the  death  of  Antoninus,  in  IGl,  he  reigned 
nineteen  years,  till  180.  Educated  by  the  best  masters  of  the  time 
in  rhetoric  and  philosophy,  he  devoted  himself  by  preference  to  the 

1  Editions:  Diibner,  Marci  Antonini  Commmtarii,  Paris,  1840,  with  Latin 
translation,  in  the  volume  containing  the  Clianrrtrrs  of  Tlieophrastus  ;  Stich, 
Marci  Antonini  Commcntnrii.  Leipsic,  Teubner,  18R2. 

Consult:  Martha.  MontlisU'S,  etc.,  sup.cit.  ;  Karth^lemy-Saint-Hilaire,  essay 
in  the  front  of  his  Pcnsees;  Paul  B.  WaLson,  Marcus  Aurelius  Antoninus,  New 
York,  1884. 

English  translations  by  Collier,  London,  1887  ;  Long,  Boston,  1863 ;  and 
Kendall,  London  and  New  York,  1898. 


508  Greek  Literature 

latter  study.  We  have  some  Letters  of  his  in  Latin  and  a  collection 
of  TJioughts,  or  personal  reflections  (Ta  «'?  kavrov),  in  Greek.  Though 
a  work  of  small  extent,  the  latter  gave  him  his  reputation. 

It  is  the  utterance  of  a  melancholy,  though  coui-ageous,  nature, 
often  chilled  by  the  coldness  of  life,  yet  firmly  attached  to  an 
unswerving  optimism.  Its  teaching  is  thoroughly  Stoic.  His  Stoi- 
cism, like  that  of  Epictetus,  was  a  profound,  even  an  ardent,  faith, 
and  penetrated  his  soul  to  its  remotest  depths.  Never  was  any 
man's  belief  stronger  in  the  doctrine  he  taught  nor  the  effort  of  any 
more  sincere,  more  constant,  more  zealous  to  bring  his  life  into  con- 
formity with  his  belief. 

The  small  volume,  at  present  divided  into  twelve  books,  seems  to 
have  been  written  by  the  emperor  from  day  to  day,  in  the  last  years  of 
his  life,  approximately  between  166  and  174.  Though  much  troubled 
by  cares  and  sadness  and  occupied  with  difficulties  and  annoyances  of 
many  sorts  at  Rome,  beyond  the  Danube,  or  even  outside  the  Empire, 
the  noble  prince  loved  to  meditate,  to  interrogate  himself,  and  to 
examine  carefully  his  conscience.  The  pages  which  he  thus  wrote 
in  solitude  form  a  long,  though  broken,  meditation  on  duty,  human 
affection,  and  the  conditions  of  life.  Every  word  discloses  a  simple, 
good  man,  thankful  for  all  the  kindnesses  that  have  been  done  him, 
a  stranger  to  vanity  and  rancor,  indulgent  to  others,  severe  with  him- 
self, truly  confident  in  the  wise  ordering  of  the  world,  the  Stoic 
Providence.  As  the  history  of  a  soul,  his  work  is  dramatic ;  as  a 
document  concerning  one  of  the  great  philosophers  of  antiquity,  it  is 
a  prize;  as  a  suggestion  for  thought  and  moral  force,  its  value  is 
of  the  first  order.  In  form,  it  consists  of  simple  notes,  scarcely 
revised;  but  they  have  their  value,  even  from  a  literary  point  of 
view.  Emotion  and  sincerity  are  evident  throughout;  and  often 
energetic  conciseness,  a  vivid  touch  or  figure,  sometimes  a  certain 
grandeur,  no  doubt  in  the  idea  rather  than  in  the  style,  is  manifest, 
communicating  itself  to  the  style,  and  vivifying  it. 

9.  History  :  Arrian  and  Appian.^  —  Later  in  the  chapter  Ave  shall 
come  upon  j)hilosop1fIy~again  in  connection  with  Neo-Platonisni. 
Let  us  lay  it  aside,  however,  for  a  moment,  as  it  is  in  the  writing  of 
history  that  we  can  best  continue  now  to  study  the  revival  of  the  sec- 

1  Editions  :  Arrian,  by  Diibiier,  .-IrnVf/u'  Annhasis  et  Indicn  ;  C.  Miiller, 
EcUquirc  Arriani.  both  in  one  volume,  with  Latin  translation.  Taris,  Didot, 
1840-1808;  Sintenis,  Arriani  Anabasis.  Li-ipsic.  Teubner,  1879;  Ilerclur, 
Arriani  Srripta  Minf>ra,  I>fii)sic.  'IVubner,  1854. 

The  Didot  Collection.  Appiani  Altxandrini  qua;  snpersunt,  with  Latin  trans- 
lation. Paris.  1840;  Meiuielssohn,  Appiani  Historian  2  vols.,  Leipsic,  Teubner, 
187!»-1881.      II.  White.  London  and  New  York.  180'.*. 

Consult:  Pauly-Wis.sowa,  Bpalenryrlopadie,  x.v.  Appianus  and  Arrianvf; 
Doulcet.  Quid  Xenopifionti  dehiierit  Arrianus,  Paris,  1882. 


The  Hellenic  Revwal  509 

ond  century.  The  period  did  not  produce  many  great  historians; 
neither  Arrian  nor  Appian  can  be  considered  such,  for  neither  pro- 
duced anything  really  new  in  this  old  form  of  composition.  Yet  in  a 
secondary  rank  they  are  certainly  superior  to  their  immediate  prede- 
cessors, Diodorus  and  Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus,  in  their  compre- 
hension of  politics,  their  knowledge  of  practical  affairs,  and  their 
tinderstanding  of  historical  values.  As  writers,  though  endowed  with 
different  qualities,  both  held  honorable  places  among  those  whose 
merit  is  chiefly  that  of  respect  for  good  stylistic  traditions. 

Arrian  was  a  Greek  of  Nicomedia  in  Bithynia.  Sprung  from  a 
provincial  family  of  considerable  means,  he  devoted  his  mind  seri- 
ously to  various  studies.  His  nature  was  docile,  sincere,  courageous, 
and  without  marked  originality.  In  his  3'outh  he  was  a  pupil  of 
Epictetus,  whom  he  admired  profoundly.  lii  collecting  the  works 
of  Epictetus,  he  edited  the  two  books  which  have  perpetuated  that 
philosopher's  teachings.  But  his  vocation  was  something  different. 
He  served  in  the  imperial  armies  and  gradually  attained  distinction. 
In  various  capacities  he  visited  parts  of  the  Empire  (probably  the 
Danubian  Provinces,  with  Gaul  and  Numidia),  and  was  noticed  and 
favored  by  Hadrian.  After  being  consul  in  130,  he  had  to  admin- 
ister as  proconsul  the  province  of  Cappadocia.  He  performed  these 
functions  with  sagacity  and  vigor,  winning  the  respect  of  the 
barbarian  Alani.  After  this,  for  some  reason,  he  lived  in  retirement 
under  the  reign  of  Antoninus,  and  died  at  an  advanced  age,  under 
Marcus  Aurelius.  In  the  last  part  of  his  life,  though  not  abandoning 
Nicomedia,  he  seems  to  have  made  long  visits  to  Athens,  and  the 
city  gave  him  the  right  of  citizenship.  Fond  of  culture,  letters,  and 
physical  exercises,  at  once  a  philosopher,  historian,  and  military  man, 
he  took  Xenophon  as  his  model  and  was  pleased  when  men  noticed 
the  fact.  He  was  called  at  Athens  the  New  Xenophon.  He  wrote 
most  of  his  historical  works  after  he  had  retired  from  private  life. 

In  editing  the  Conversations  and  the  Mamial  of  Epictetus,  he  lim- 
ited himself  voluntarily  to  the  modest  office  of  a  scribe,  simply  not- 
ing, as  faithfully  as  possible,  his  master's  words.  His  originality, 
on  the  whole,  was  never  marked,  and  was  developed  but  gradually. 
The  Voyage  in  the  Eaxine,  written  for  Hadrian  about  131,  is  scarcely 
more  than  an  official  report,  translated  into  Greek  and  slightly  modi- 
fied for  publication.  In  his  Treatise  on  Tactics,  composed  in  137,  he 
adapts  tlie  earlier  tacticians  to  his  purpose,  notably  a  certain  .Elian, 
who  immediately  preceded  him,  the  author  of  a  Theory  of  Tactics 
which  we  still  possess.  The  Plan  of  Battle  against  the  Alani  is  a  frag- 
ment of  uncertain  origin  which  must  date  from  the  same  time. 
These  were  essays.     If  we  put  aside  two  lost  biographies  {Timoleon 


510  Greek  Literature 

of  Corinth  and  Dio  of  Syracuse),  we  shall  come  to  the  works  that 
established  his  reputation,  the  Expedition  of  Alexander  ('AXt^dvBpov 
'Ava/Sao-is),  supplemented  by  a  work  On  India  ('IvSik?;,  sc.  cnrfypa<t>ri)f 
another  On  the  Period  after  Alexander  (Ta  /act*  'AXe^avSpov),  and  a 
History  of  Bithynia  (Bi^wiaKa) ;  the  last  two  are  lost.  Then  he  com- 
posed a  work  On  the  Alani  ('AAaviKa),  likewise  lost,  and  a  History  of 
the  War  against  the  PaHhians  under  Trajan  (IlapOiKi]),  in  seventeen 
books,  perhaps  his  most  original  work,  none  of  which,  however,  has 
been  transmitted  to  us.  We  do  have,  on  the  contrary,  a  small  treatise 
On  Hunting  (Kw-qy €tlk6<;),  of  uncertain  date ;  but  this  it  is  enough 
simply  to  mention. 

The  only  work  of  his  still  classic  is  the  Expedition  of  Alexander. 
His  attention  seems  to  have  been  drawn  to  the  subject  by  the  expe- 
dition of  Trajan  against  the  Parthians,  one  of  the  most  important 
events  of  his  youth.  In  the  second  century  the  old,  authentic 
accounts  of  this  expedition  had  been  forgotten,  or  were  unpopular, 
and  the  legendary  and  fantastic  narratives  that  gradually  arose  were 
offensive  to  the  sounder  minds.  Arrian  simply  wished  to  present  to 
the  public  a  clear,  short,  well-ordered  narrative,  which  people  could 
trust  and  read  with  pleasure.  For  this  purpose  he  re-read  the  his- 
torians of  Alexander,  particularly  Ptolemy  and  Aristobulus,  com- 
panions of  the  conqueror,  who  seemed  more  trustworthy.  By 
comparing  and  combining  them,  he  composed  his  work,  without 
personal  research  or  new  information,  but  also  without  vain,  frivolous 
inventions.  It  is  to-day  the  best  account  of  the  subject,  and  thor- 
oughly readable.  He  showed  himself  an  intelligent  historian,  an 
agreeable  narrator,  a  correct  writer,  classic  in  style,  a  man  of  taste 
and  judgment,  yet  without  superior  merit.  If  the  part  of  Alexander 
is  not  given  its  full  prominence,  at  least  the  principal  elements  in 
his  biography  are  cleverly  treated. 

Appian  is  an  exact  contemporary  of  Arrian  in  point  of  age.  He, 
too,  was  born  at  the  close  of  the  first  century,  and  must  also  have 
died  in  the  reign  of  Marcus  Aurelius.  Put  as  a  writer,  he  came  to 
renown  only  when  Arrian  had  acquired  fame,  toward  the  close  of 
Hadrian's  reign,  or  possibly  under  Antoninus.  He  was  born  at  Alex- 
andria, and  seems  to  have  been  educated  there,  for  he  had  a  good 
practice  as  an  advocate  early  in  his  life.  Later,  though  we  cannot 
follow  his  career  in  detail,  we  find  him  at  Rome,  where  he  seems  to 
have  been  fiscal  attorney  under  Hadrian  and  Antoninus.  The  latter 
appointed  him  procurator,  at  the  request  of  his  friend  Fronto,  and  he 
probably  held  this  office  under  Marcus  Aurelius  until  his  death. 

He  wrote  but  two  works,  an  Autobiography,  to-day  lost,  and  a 
Roman  History,  wliich  is  extant  in  part  ('Poj/xaiKa),  a  work  in  twenty- 


The  Hellenic  Revival  611 

four  books,  covering  the  whole  history  of  Rome,  from  the  earliest 
times  till  tte  close  of  the  reign  of  Trajan.  This  great  mass  of  facts 
is  difficult  to  take  in  at  a  glance  ;  but  he  tried  to  give  it  a  rational 
order.  Instead  of  following  events  year  by  year,  he  grouped  them 
so  that  each  book  should  form  a  whole.  The  principle  of  grouping 
was  often  ethnographic,  when  he  combined  in  a  continuous  narrative 
the  account  of  all  the  relations  of  a  given  people  with  Rome,  and 
often  historical,  when  he  set  off  by  itself  a  period  characterized  by 
some  prominent  fact.  Much  of  the  work  is  lost.  Besides  scattered 
fragments,  we  have  Books  YI-VIII  (the  wars  with  Spain,  the  Sec- 
ond Punic  War,  the  wars  with  Africa)  and  Books  XI-XVII  (the  wars 
with  Syria  and  the  Parthians,  the  war  with  Mithridates,  and  the 
beginning  of  the  Civil  Wars). 

His  greatest  lack  in  dealing  with  so  broad  a  subject  was  that  of 
philosophic  insight.  He  had  no  profound  understanding  of  the  relar 
tions  of  cause  and  effect.  The  order  he  adopted  has  its  convenience ; 
in  reality,  he  was  forced  to  violate  the  sequence  of  events,  though  at 
times  he  made  them  unintelligible  by  destroying  the  bond  between 
the  history  of  Rome  and  that  of  her  conquered  provinces.  The 
defect  is  noticeable  in  each  of  the  different  portions  of  the  work  now 
extant.  His  explanations  are  almost  never  satisfactory.  There  is 
no  reflection,  no  penetrating  intuition.  The  imagination  is  mediocre ; 
the  narrative  is  colorless  and  unanimated.  These  are  grave  defects ; 
yet  the  author  has  considerable  merits,  too.  His  exposition  is  marked 
by  ease  and  clearness,  and  not  spoiled  with  empty  rhetoric,  bombast, 
or  useless  digressions.  The  narrative  is  stocked  with  facts  ;  he  aims 
simply  to  instruct  without  repelling  the  reader,  and  is  successful. 
Most  of  his  facts  are  presented  in  their  just  aspect,  and,  on  the 
whole,  well  enough  comprehended.  He  is  free  from  prejudice,  aims 
to  be  truthful,  and  succeeds  as  far  as  it  is  possible  for  one  who  does 
not  go  deeply  into  psychology  or  politics.  His  work  has  enough 
sanity,  honesty,  and  breadth  of  scope  to  recommend  it  to  any  one 
interested  in  the  history  of  Rome.  His  language  is  not  so  pure  as 
Arrian's,  containing  more  contemporary  mannerisms ;  yet  it  is  that 
of  a  well-educated  man,  not  given  to  vulgar  negligence  or  false 
rhetoric. 

10.  Later  Historical  "Writing.  Dio  Cassius.  Herodian.'  —  The 
writing  of  sound,  sober  liistory,  estimable  rather  than  brilliant,  con- 

1  Editions  :  Dio  Cassius  by  Dindorf,  5  vols.,  Leipsic,  Teubner,  1863-1805  ; 
Melber,  5  vols.,  Leipsic,  Teubner,  1896  ;  Boissevain,  Cnssi  Dionis  Historia 
Bomana,  Berlin,  Weidmann,  1894-1000. 

Ilerodian  by  Bekker,  Leipsic,  Teubner,  1855  ;  Mendelssohn,  Leipsic,  188.3. 
English  translation  bv  J.  Hart,  London,  1749.  French  translation  by  E.  Gros, 
10  vols.,  Paris,  1845-1870. 

Consult:  Keimar,  De  Vita  et  Scriptis  Dionis,  in  Bekker's  edition. 


512  Greek  Literature 

tinued  through  the  remainder  of  the  second  century  and  well  on  into 
the  third.  Its  principal  representatives  were  Dio  Gassius  and 
Herodian. 

Dio  Cassius  (Cassius  Dio  Cocceianus),  like  Arrian  and  the  philos- 
opher Dio  Chrysostom,  his  relative  by  marriage,  was  a  Greek  of 
Bithynia.  He  was  born  at  Nicaea  shortly  before  155.  As  the  son 
of  a  high  imperial  officer,  he  followed  the  cursus  honorum.  He  was 
a  senator  before  the  advent  of  Com  modus  in  180.  In  that  reign  he 
contented  himself  with  pleading.  Pie  became  preetor  in  194  by 
favor  of  Pertinax.  Septimius  and  Caracalla  added  no  office  to  his 
honors.  Macrinus  nominated  him  in  218  imperial  commissary 
at  Smyrna  and  Pergamon;  Alexander  Severus  made  him  consul, 
then  governor  of  Africa,  about  224.  After  that  he  governed  Dal- 
matia  and  Upper  Pannonia.  In  these  various  functions  he  evinced 
firmness  and  intelligence.  After  being  consul  for  the  second  time 
in  229,  he  retired  to  his  own  country  to  pass  his  closing  years  in 
peace,  and  probably  died  there  between  230  and  240.  In  brief,  he 
was  a  politician,  an  administrator,  a  general,  and  withal  a  man  well 
prepared  to  write  history. 

Tlie  great  work  that  has  preserved  his  name  is  a  history  of  Rome 
in  eighty  books.  Begun  about  200,  it  was  almost  completed  twenty- 
two  years  later;  but  it  then  extended  only  to  the  death  of  Septimius 
Severus.  In  his  last  years  it  was  completed  by  a  more  hurried 
account  of  later  events,  probably  to  the  end  of  his  second  consulate. 
Consequently  it  comprised  the  whole  history  of  Rome  from  the  be- 
ginning. We  have  but  twenty -four  books  (XXXVII-LX),  from  the 
year  08  b.c.  to  the  year  47  a.d.,  with  more  or  less  extensive  frag- 
ments of  the  others.  The  missing  parts  are  in  a  measure  supplied 
by  an  abridgment  which  the  monk  Xiphilinus  made  in  the  eleventh 
century  :  and  by  the  history  of  Zonaras  (twelfth  century),  who  used 
Dio's  work  freely. 

He  prepared  himself  with  seriousness  to  write  the  History.  He 
read  carefully,  compared,  and  criticised  the  historians  of  the  different 
ages  of  Rome,  —  Romans  such  as  Varro,  Sallust,  Cajsar,  Asinius 
I'ollio,  Livy,  and  others,  —  no  doubt  also  Greeks  such  as  Polybius 
and  Dionysins  of  Halicarnassus.  But  he  does  not  seem  to  have 
gone  back  to  their  sources,  nor  to  have  sought  to  complete  or  correct 
them  by  the  study  of  memoirs,  correspondence,  archives,  and  monu- 
ments. His  information,  accordingly,  is  of  moderate  worth,  though 
valuable  for  its  abundance  and  choice  of  details,  but  much  less  inter- 
esting and  suggestive  tlian,  for  example,  that  of  Plutarch.  The  care 
for  chronological  and  geograjihical  exactitude  attests  the  author's 
scrupviluusness.     In  the  last  part  of  his  work,  which  is,  unfortu- 


The  Hellenic  Revival  513 

nately,  much  mutilated,  he  spoke  as  an  eye-witness  of  things  that 
had  taken  place  in  his  own  time.  What  he  says  of  them  has  a  par- 
ticular interest.  But  the  case  is  exceptional.  Then,  too,  he  has 
real  weaknesses;  dreams  and  prophecies  are  grave  events  for  him, 
and  he  multiplies  accounts  of  them  to  a  ridiculous  extreme.  Besides, 
his  mind,  though  naturally  judicious,  lacks  depth  and  penetration. 
He  cannot  rise  at  need  above  prejudices  and  party  feelings,  nor  grasp 
the  whole  of  an  epoch  or  of  a  statesman's  activity,  nor  yet  select  the 
leading  features  of  a  historic  character.  His  account  is  sensible,  sub- 
stantial, free  from  excess,  and  of  sufficient  accuracy  to  make  it  gen- 
erally probable.  One  feels,  in  reading  him,  that  he  is  not  misleading, 
yet  scarcely  that  one  is  given  full,  vivid  information  concerning  many 
important  but  obscure  points. 

His  literary  merit  seems  to  have  been  highly  appreciated  by  his 
contemporaries  and  the  scholars  of  the  succeeding  ages.  Photius 
praises  the  nobility  of  Dio's  style,  the  choice  of  his  expressions,  the 
artistic  construction  of  his  periods  and  their  rhythm,  and  the  general 
clearness  of  his  language.  The  eulogy  is  not  wholly  undeserved. 
Having  had  a  very  careful  literary  education,  he  strove  to  write  in 
a  classic  style,  without  sophistry  or  affectation  of  Atticism.  The 
general  movement  of  his  narrative  is  simple ;  it  could  be  read  with- 
out effort,  often  even  with  pleasure.  But  his  art  is  not  really  supe- 
rior. Monotony  in  narrative,  with  lack  of  vigor,  of  vivacity,  and 
of  imagination,  occasional  pettiness  in  reflection,  constant  want  of 
accent  and  emphasis,  and  a  certain  dryness  everywhere  manifest  — 
these  are  his  characteristics.  The  harangues  which,  in  the  manner 
of  the  classic  historians,  he  introduces  into  his  narrative  are  long, 
artificial,  and  wearisome.  He  has  neither  sufficient  philosophic 
insight  to  select  the  essential  ideas  of  a  situation,  nor  sufficient  art 
to  bring  out  well  the  character  of  his  personages. 

Though  less  well  known  to-day,  Herodian  is  scarcely  inferior  in 
merit ;  but  his  work  has  neither  the  same  extent  nor  the  same  his- 
torical importance.  His  life  may  be  said  to  fall  approximately 
between  165  and  255.  Although  he  wrote  in  Greek,  he  was  possibly 
a  Roman  by  birth.  He  states  that  he  held  imperial  offices,  though 
without  mentioning  them  in  detail. 

His  History  of  the  Successorti  of  Marcus  Aurelius  (Tr;?  /u.era  MapKov 
(3a(nXiM<;  toroptai)  was  begun  about  250  and  never  finished.  Its 
design  included  the  period  from  IGO  to  238 ;  and  it  aims,  he  informs 
us,  to  recount  the  acts  of  the  emperors  whom  he  has  known  in  per- 
son. Hence  it  was  the  sovereigns  that  he  had  in  view  rather  than 
the  destinies  of  the  Empire,  and  his  work  does  have  a  marked 
biographical  tendency.  The  sincerity  he  professes  so  emphatically 
2l 


514  Chreek  Literature 

seems  real ;  lie  appears  to  have  sought  loyally  for  the  truth.  His 
information  is  based  less  on  reading  than  on  personal  observation, 
on  notes  taken  from  day  to  day,  and  on  what  he  saw  or  heard  said. 
It  is  interesting,  without  being  either  full  in  details  or  even  always 
precise.  What  he  noted  best,  though  only  in  general,  is  the  moral 
phase  of  history,  the  character  of  the  emperors  and  their  counsellors, 
the  influences  to  which  they  were  subject,  and  the  movements  of 
public  opinion. 

An  imitator  of  Thucydides  like  Dio,  he  spoils  his  model,  and 
avoids  false  rhetoric  with  difficulty.  His  harangues  are  too  numer- 
ous, and  are  offensive,  owing  to  their  misuse  of  classical  allusions. 
His  narratives  have  more  merit.  They  atone  for  his  defects.  If 
his  language  is  not  wholly  pure,  and  if  his  sentences  too  often  show 
imitation  and  artifice,  at  least  the  style  has  elegance,  and  even 
brilliance  now  and  then. 

The  history  of  literature  need  not  take  note  of  the  other  histo- 
rians of  the  second  and  third  centuries,  whose  works  we  possess 
only  in  fragments.^  The  only  one  that  really  has  any  value  is 
Dexippus  of  Athens,  a  contemporary  of  Aurelian,  a  statesman,  gen- 
eral, and  writer,  who  gave  an  account,  in  his  Wars  against  the 
Scythians,  of  the  first  Gothic  invasions. 

11.  Scholars  and  Compilers.  Pausanias.  The  Z./6rar/ of  Apollodorus. 
Diogenes  Laertius.  —  In  addition  to  history  proper,  there  is  a  large 
group  of  diverse  works  without  real  literary  merit,  often  cited  for 
their  documentary  value.  We  can  neitlier  study  them  here  nor 
quite  pass  them  by  in  silence.     It  "will  suflice  to  mention  them. 

Pausanias  the  Traveller,  who  lived  at  the  close  of  the  second 
century,  is  important  on  account  of  his  Description  of  Greece  (Uepiy- 
yr](Ti<;  r^s 'EXAaSosj,'  a  valuable  work  on  ancient  Greece,  its  mythology, 
topography,  and  monuments.  The  author  was  neither  artist  nor 
archaologist,  neither  student  nor  writer,  yet  he  might  almost  be 
considered  any  of  these.  He  was  an  amateur,  who  had  at  his  dis- 
posal many  facts  which  we  lack,  and  saw  many  things  which  we 
can  no  longer  see.  Therefore  his  work,  though  devoid  of  originality, 
is  to-day  a  real  manual  for  the  use  of  all  who  study  ancient  Greece. 

^  C.  Miiller.  Frutim.  Hist,  (irixr..  vol.  III.  sxip.  cit.;  Dindorf.  Historiri  Grcvci 
Mixorrs.  Tcubner. 

-  Editions  :  Dindorf.  Pari.s.  Didot,  1845  ;  Sclmbart,  2  vols.,  Leip.sic.  Teubiier, 
IhT-'j-l'^TI  ;  Hitzig  and  Blurnintr,  edition  with  archaeological  notes  and  es.says,  in 
course  of  publication  at  Berlin  since  1896. 

Knglish  translation  with  a  commentary  by  .J.  G.  Frazer.  6  vols.,  London, 
]8'.»s.  a  noteworthy  product  of  English  scholarship;  Harrison  and  Verrall, 
Mijtlinl'.ipi  an<l  Mnnnmfntjt  of  Anciint  Athens.  London,  18fX). 

('o)i-ult:  (juilitt.  I'l^hir  Pausanias,  Gthz,  1890;  A.  Ka\km&nn,  Pausanias 
(hr  r<ri'q>t.  Berlin.  l8>*tJ. 


The  Hellenic  Revival  515 

There  is  sometimes  cited  a  work  On  Strategy  (SiTpaTriy^fMTa) 
in  eight  books,  dedicated  by  the  Macedonian  Polysenus  to  the  em- 
peror Marcus  Aurelius.^  It  is  a  simple  compilation,  but  contains 
accounts  which  supply  the  place  of  certain  lacunae  in  the  historians. 

The  Library  of  Apollodorus  ^  bears  without  warrant  the  name  of 
a  scholar  who  lived  at  Athens  in  the  second  century  b.c.  In  reality, 
it  is  the  work  of  an  unknown  author  of  the  early  centuries  of  the 
Empire.  It  contains,  in  the  dryest  style  possible,  genealogies  of  the 
gods  and  heroes.  It  can  neither  be  read  through  nor  left  out  of 
account  in  dealing  with  Greek  mythology.  To  the  same  period  and 
type  of  composition  belongs  the  little  collection  of  Metamorphoses 
in  prose,  which  bears  the  name  of  Antoninus  Liberalis,  an  author 
otherwise  unknown. 

A  work  of  more  importance,  if  not  of  greater  merit,  is  that  of 
Diogenes  Laertius,  entitled  Lives  of  the  Philosophers.^  The  author, 
who  seems  to  have  lived  at  the  beginning  of  the  third  century,  was 
a  man  without  inspiration  or  talent.  The  plan  of  his  work  is  very 
superficial.  He  enumerates  the  leading  representatives  of  each 
school ;  gives  a  rhumS  of  the  life  of  each,  introducing  a  quantity 
of  inauthentic  anecdotes,  and  witticisms  that  are  more  than  merely 
suspect ;  then  adds  a  list  of  their  works,  without,  however,  study- 
ing seriously  questions  of  chronology  or  even  authenticity;  and 
presents  a  somewhat  confused  account  of  their  theories.  He  seems 
to  have  regarded  this  as  the  history  of  philosophy ;  but,  however 
mediocre  his  work,  it  is  indispensable  to-day  for  the  study  of  the 
ancient  philosophers. 

12.  Sophistry :  its  Origin ;  Sketch  of  its  History  in  the  Second 
and  Third  Centuries.'' • — -Let  us  take  up  now  the  study  of  literature, 
which  constitutes  our  proper  object.  As  much  as  moral  philosophy, 
and  much  more  than  history,  oratory  shows,  beginning  with  the 
second  century,  the  revival  of  Hellenic  genius.  But  it  is  no  longer 
the  oratory  of  the  days  of  Demosthenes.  Not  having  a  real  pur- 
jjose,  it  created  an  artificial  one.  Almost  estranged  from  public 
aifairs,  it  was  produced  chiefly  in  the  schools,  in  polite  society,  and 
in  the  courts ;  and  the  schools  and  society  gave  it  its  tone  in  the 
courts.  The  representatives  of  such  oratory  reassumed  a  title  of 
honor  once  decried,  calling  themselves  sophists ;  and  their  art  they 

1  Edition  by  Wolfflin-Melbcr,  Teubner  Collection. 

2  Kditions":  C.  Mullcr,  Fra(/m.  Hist.  CfrcKC,  vol.  I;  R.  Wagner,  Mytho- 
graphi  (ircvri,  I.  Lcipsio,  'Peubner,  1894.  ' 

3  Editions  by  Cobet,  Paris,  Didot,  \^'>0  ;  and  Holtzc,  Leipsic,  18,1:;. 

*  Consult:  Wostermann,  <T('srh.  dcr  Bcndsninkrit.  Lcipsio,  18;j;>  ;  Mernhardy, 
Gesch.  d.  gr.  Littcratiir,  vol.  I;  E.  Kohde,  JJrr  gritchischr  liuman,  Leipsic, 
187G  (chap.  Ill)  ;  H.  von  Arnini,  s^^p.  cit.,  p.  400.  introduction. 


516  Greek  Literature 

called  sophistry.  This  is  the  second  form  of  sophistry  in  literary 
history,  and  it  was  but  loosely  connected  with  that  of  Gorgias  and 
Protagoras. 

It  arose  in  the  schools  of  Asia  Minor  toward  the  close  of  the 
first  century.  In  origin,  it  was  only  a  continuation  and  development 
of  the  exercises  that  were  in  use  in  every  period.  But  when  the 
Empire  was  at  peace  and  society  was  enjoying  leisure,  it  rapidly 
took  on  new  brilliance  in  the  cities,  which  were  rich,  commercial, 
somewhat  tumultuous,  and  jealous.  The  schools  were  well  attended 
and  excessively  vain.  Clever  masters  were  winning  reputations  and 
prodigious  fortunes.  They  brought  their  art  before  the  public  in 
the  form  of  elocutionary  speeches,  before  the  courts  in  pleas  that 
were  modelled  upon  such  speeches,  and  before  city  councils  and 
provincial  governors,  sometimes  even  before  senators  or  emperors, 
in  harangues  that  used  the  most  serious  affairs  merely  as  the  occa- 
sion for  displays  of  wit  and  grace.  From  the  beginning  of  the  second 
century,  the  Greek  Orient  swarmed  with  orators  of  renown  who  were 
applauded,  extolled,  flattered,  and  compared  with  the  great  men  of 
former  days ;  they  literally  drew  the  multitude  after  them.  Their 
success  was  brief,  because  artifice  and  fashion  had  too  great  a  part 
in  it;  yet  in  the  art  to  which  they  were  devoted  there  is  a  serious 
element  worthy  of  consideration. 

The  sophistry  of  the  Empire  was  based  upon  traditional  rhetoric. 
It  implied  a  study,  legitimate  and  useful  of  itself,  of  invention, 
composition,  and  elocution  —  or,  in  short,  of  thought  and  its  ex- 
pression. This  study  had  become  more  and  more  superficial.  The 
men  called  Asiatics  often  put  practice  before  theory,  and  sought  to 
develop  in  themselves  mere  natural  facility  rather  than  reflection 
and  good  taste.  It  was  well  to  oppose  such  a  whim  by  returning  to 
rhetoric  and  the  study  of  classic  models.  This  seems,  at  least  in 
the  beginning,  to  have  been  the  procedure  of  the  sophists  of  the 
Empire.  They  had  a  knowledge  of  the  orators  and  of  the  tradi- 
tional rules,  a  liking  for  perfection  and  a  sentiment  of  art  which, 
however  praiseworthy,  were  wanting  in  their  predecessors.  The  re- 
formed oratory,  then,  might  have  done  honor  to  Greek  genius,  had 
it  been  on  its  guard  against  certain  temptations.  Though  liberty 
of  speech  was  much  hampered,  serious  occasions  were  fouiul  for  its 
development  in  legal  trials,  municipal  and  provincial  i)usiness,  reli- 
gious reunions,  and  lectures.  It  was  restrained  by  the  ambition  for 
great  political  subjects  and  the  fondness  for  improvisation. 

Tliese  light  and  vain  "Asiatic"  (xreeks  could  not  easily  be  con- 
tent with  being  mere  advocates  in  business  matters.  They  wished 
to  play  a  role,  to  combat  tyrants,  to  stir  the  multitudes,  to  mourn 


The  Hellenic  Revival  517 

over  great  catastrophes ;  and  as  the  rulers  of  the  time  were  not  to 
be  combated,  and  stirring  of  the  ni\iltitudes  was  no  longer  possible, 
rather  than  renounce  their  fine  themes,  they  created  imaginary- 
occasions  for  them.  Oratory  thus  became  a  theatrical  fiction.  Great 
word-artists  played  Themistocles,  Pericles,  Demosthenes,  and  Hype- 
rides,  braved  Xerxes  and  lashed  Philip,  in  finely  decorated  halls 
and  before  a  leisurely  audience  which  came  as  to  the  theatre.  Their 
art,  though  good  for  its  purpose,  degenerated  into  puerility. 

They  were  intoxicated  with  their  success  and  tried  to  rival  each 
other,  aiming  to  increase  their  success  by  increasing  artificially  the 
difficulties  to  be  overcome.  So  they  improvised  their  discourses  — 
at  least  in  appearance  —  in  order  to  make  a  greater  impression.  It 
was  chiefly  this  tendency  that  changed  their  oratory  into  frivolous 
declamation.  Once  become  an  empty  pageant,  it  strove  more  and 
more  to  dazzle,  and  depended  for  prestige  on  frivolous  address 
instead  of  well-pondered  rules  of  art.  The  more  fashionable  speakers 
asked  their  audience  to  propose  a  subject ;  and  whatever  it  might  be, 
they  would  begin  at  once  to  speak.  Naturally  they  applied  to  the 
subject  commonplaces  already  prepared  and  everywhere  applicable. 
Serious  reflection  was  impossible.  Wit,  antitheses,  figures  of  speech, 
all  was  welcome  that  gave  the  illusion  of  perfect  eloquence,  and 
charmed  listeners  already  enthusiastic.  The  sophist  was  simply  a 
virtuoso  executing  infinite  variations  on  the  themes  given,  and  in- 
venting flourishes  of  every  sort.  Simplicity,  good  taste,  and  good 
sense  were  things  of  the  past. 

These  few  indications  may  suffice  to  characterize  sophistry  in 
general.  Excepting  some  few,  of  whom  we  shall  speak  shortly,  its 
representatives  are  scarcely  known  except  from  the  Lives  of  the 
Sophists  by  Philostratus.  There  they  are  seen  in  action.  Their 
habits  and  manners,  their  scholastic  exercises,  and  the  various  forms 
of  their  art  are  shown.  Among  the  most  celebrated  sophists  were 
Nicetes  of  Smyrna  (end  of  the  first  century),  who  was  regarded  as 
the  restorer  of  eloquence ;  Scopelian  of  Clazomense,  a  renowned 
orator  in  the  reigns  of  Domitian,  Nerva,  and  Trajan ;  Isseus,  a  cele- 
brated improviser,  praised  by  Pliny  the  Elder  {Letters,  II,  3) ;  Lol- 
lianus  of  Ephesus,  the  first  to  occupy  at  Athens  the  chair  of  eloquence 
which  the  city  had  founded;  Antonius  Polemo  of  Laodicea,  a  con- 
temporary of  Hadrian  and  Antoninus,  one  of  the  most  remarkable  of 
these  artists  of  discourse,  who  has  left  us  two  declamations ;  Herodes 
Atticus,  the  most  famous  of  all,  equally  celebrated  for  his  oratory, 
his  prodigious  wealth,  and  his  pomp,  who  was  consul  under  Anto- 
ninus in  143,  and  died  about  179,  a  little  before  the  end  of  the  reign 
of  iVlarcus  Aurelius;  Hadrian  of  Tyre,  his  disciple,  who  astonished 


518  Greek  Literature 

Athens  by  his  luxury ;  and  .Elius  Aristides  and  the  Philostrati,  of 
whom  we  shall  speak  at  somewhat  greater  length. 

Sophistry  shone  with  greatest  brilliance  in  the  second  century. 
The  large  cities  then  attracted  celebrated  sophists  and  founded 
chairs  for  them.  The  emperors,  following  the  example,  in  turn 
created  positions  for  professors  of  oratory  and  philosophy,  whose 
remuneration  came  from  the  public  funds.  From  the  year  176, 
owing  to  the  foundations  of  Marcus  Aurelius,  Athens  was  a  real 
university  city.  This  state  of  things  continued  through  the  third 
century  and  was  really  to  last  as  long  as  paganism.  But  the  wars 
of  the  third  century,  the  invasions,  and  the  anarchy  into  which  the 
Empire  fell  till  the  time  of  Diocletian,  were  less  favorable  to  this 
art  of  peace  than  the  tranquillity  of  the  preceding  one  under  the 
Antonines.  We  must  go  to  the  fourth  century  to  find  more  names 
that  deserve  our  attention. 

13.  .ffilius  Aristides  and  Maximus  of  Tyre.^  —  In  general,  the  works 
of  the  sophists  were  necessarily  short-lived  and  have  disappeared. 
In  the  second  century,  an  orator  of  the  schools,  .Elius  Aristides,  and 
a  polite  philosopher,  Maximus  of  Tyre,  alone  have  bequeathed  to  us 
literary  legacies  of  any  importance. 

.Elius  Aristides  was  born  at  Adriani  in  Mysia  in  129.  His 
father  was  rich  and  well  known.  Though,  like  most  of  the  sophists, 
he  travelled  in  all  parts  of  the  Empire,  yet  he  lived  chiefly  at  Smyrna. 
He  became  famous  as  an  elocutionist  in  the  reigns  of  Antoninus, 
Marcus  Aurelius,  and  Commodus.  He  was  seriously  ill  for  a  dozen 
years,  and  has  left  us,  as  it  were,  the  diary  of  his  treatment  in  the 
Sacred  Discourses  (lepol  Xoyoi),  a  curious  monument  of  the  supersti- 
tions of  the  time,  and  of  his  own  faith  in  the  revelations  of  the  heal- 
ing-god Asclepias.  His  reputation  rests  upon  his  discourses,  of 
which  we  have  still  an  ample  collection.  Some  pertain  to  events  of 
the  day,  and  others  treat  fictitious  subjects;  all,  or  almost  all,  were 
written  to  be  recited  in  fashionable  oratorical  entertainments,  then 
called  forensics  (tViStt'^ets).  The  most  celebrated  are  the  Discourse  to 
Plato  in  defence  of  the  four  statesmen  criticised  in  the  Gorgias(npos 
nAarwrn  iirtp  toiv  TtacrdpiDv),  the  Panathenaica,  and  the  double  Apology 
for  Rhetoric,  which  likewise  aims  to  answer  certain  objections  of 
Plato. 

He  was  not  an  improviser  like  most  of  his  contemporaries.  He 
improvised,  indeed,  only  when  he  could  not  avoid  it.     In  general,  his 

^  ^fJUus  Aristidf'S,  by  Piiulorf,  3  vols..  Leipsic.  1829;  Bniiio  Keil.  ^fJlii 
Aristi'lis  r/ua'  svprrsnnt  Omnin.  2  Vdls..  IJorlin.  1898.  Mdriinns  of  Tyn-, 
Diihiifr,  Pari.-i.  Didot.  IHIO  fin  the  volume  with  the  Characters  of  Theophrastus). 
EnglLsh  trauslalion  by  Taylor,  '2  void.,  London,  181)4. 


The  Hellenic  Revived  519 

discourses  were  carefully  thought  out  and  revised  at  leisure.  Yet 
his  art  was  not  essentially  different  from  what  was  then  in  vogue. 
It  has  its  good  qualities  and  also  its  defects.  He  shows  a  mind  sin- 
gularly ingenious  in  the  invention  of  arguments,  he  abounds  in 
resources  of  every  sort,  he  can  reason ;  he  knows  history  and  profits 
thereby,  and  he  knows  the  art  of  using  examples.  His  style  is 
formed  upon  good  models  and,  in  general,  is  pure  and  flexible,  some- 
times strong  and  brilliant.  The  great  fault  that  spoils  all  is  his 
frivolity.  He  does  not  speak  under  the  influence  of  conviction  or 
passion,  nor  because  he  has  anything  to  say ;  but  for  mere  show. 
Oratory  thus  conceived  is  vanity,  and  quickly  repels. 

Maximus  of  Tyre  is  the  author  of  forty -one  dissertations  or  con- 
versations on  philosophical  subjects  (AtaXt^eis).  All  that  we  know 
of  him  is  that  he  flourished  under  Commodus.  His  philosophy  was 
Platonism  mingled  with  various  elements;  but,  in  fact,  it  was 
scarcely  more  than  a  pretext  for  displaying  the  frivolous  graces  of 
his  wit.  The  StciAe^is,  much  in  vogue  among  the  sophists,  was  really 
a  lecture,  in  which  the  orator  spoke  in  his  own  name ;  it  was  opposed 
to  the  ficXerr],  wherein  he  represented  some  historic  personage  as 
speaking.  In  the  conversations,  he  treated  principally  moral  sub- 
jects. He  enjoyed  acting  as  a  moralist  and  a  preacher.  Sometimes 
he  touched  on  religious  questions.  But  whatever  his  theme,  his 
commonplace  elegance  remained  uniformly  vague  and  superficial. 
His  style  was  one  of  labored  affectation,  and  recalled  the  manner  of 
Gorgias  by  its  finical  symmetry. 

14.  Lucian;  his  Life  and  Writings;  his  Role  and  Genius.^  —  The 
only  greax  name  that  we  meet  at  this  time  is  that  of  Lucian.  Though 
not  in  the  strict  domain  of  sophistry,  he  is  at  least  in  its  vicinity. 
Very  different  from  the  empty  rhetoricians,  he  is  both  a  producer  of 
ideas  and  a  creator  of  forms.  Though  sophistic  in  his  education  and 
his  habits  as  a  writer,  he  is  not  so  in  the  native  vigor  of  his  mind  and 
the  independence  of  his  character.  A  pamphleteer,  moralist,  story- 
teller, and  dialectician,  he  has  a  personal  power  not  found  at  this 
time  in  any  other  man. 

He  was  born  at  Samosata  in  northern  Syria  about  125  a.d.,  and 
spoke  Syriac  in  his  youth.     His  parents  were  humble  and  destined 

1  Editions:  Ilemsterhnyz  unci  Reitz,  4  vols.,  Amsterdam  and  Treves,  1743- 
1746,  with  scholia,  notes,  and  a  Latin  tran-slation  :  G.  Dindorf,  Paris,  Didot, 
1840.  with  Latin  translation  ;  Fritsche,  Hostock,  18G0-1874  ;  Jaeobitz,  .S  vols,, 
Leipsic,  Teubner,  1871-1874  ;  Sominerbrodt,  Lnrifmits,  Berlin.  1886-1893. 

English  translation  of  six  dialogues,  Irwin,  London,  1894. 

Consult:  K.  G.Jacob,  Characteri.'itik-  Lucians  von  Samosate,  Hamburg,  183"J  ; 
the  essays  in  Frit.sche's  edition  ;  M.  Croiset,  Egsai  sitr  la  vif  ft  Irs  oeuvres  de 
Lnden,  Paris.  1882;  S.  Chabert,  L'Atticistne  de  Lucitu,  Paris,  1897;  Rabast^. 
Qjiid  coynicis  dthutril  Lucianus,  Paris,  1850. 


520  Greek  Literature 

him  for  a  trade.  He  was  apprenticed  to  his  uncle,  a  sculptor.  But 
his  free  nature  revolted.  He  obtained  leave  to  study,  and  attended 
the  schools,  first,  probably  of  his  own  country,  then  those  of  Ionia, 
with  a  view  to  becoming  a  teacher  of  rhetoric  and  a  lawyer.  For  a 
time,  about  150,  he  probably  composed  pleas  at  Antioch;  but,  once 
out  of  the  schools,  he  led,  on  the  whole,  the  life  of  a  travelling 
sophist.  He  gave  lectures  from  city  to  city,  in  Greece,  Macedon, 
and  Italy ;  then  lived  for  some  time  as  a  professor  of  rhetoric  in  one 
of  the  half-Greek  cities  of  southern  Gaul.  About  160,  or  a  little 
later,  he  returned  to  the  Orient,  even  reentering  Samosata,  and 
finally,  in  165,  settling  at  Athens  with  his  people.  He  seems  to 
have  lived  there  a  score  of  years,  between  about  165  and  185.  Dis- 
gusted with  the  emptiness  of  rhetoric,  he  retired  with  fame  from 
the  tribunals  and  sophistry  proper,  but  not  from  the  conversations 
in  which  he  excelled.  His  originality  was  abundantly  displayed. 
He  became  a  pamphleteer  and  satirist  by  profession,  comjDosing 
dialogues,  pamphlets,  and  satiric  narratives,  and  reading  them  be- 
fore the  public.  His  spirit,  his  boldness,  which  made  him  offensive 
to  his  critics,  and  his  impertinent,  censorious  scepticism,  made  him 
a  noted  personage  in  Athens.  This  continued  several  years ;  then 
probably  his  success  began  to  wane.  To  revive  it,  he  undertook 
new  travels.  Finally,  when  advanced  in  years,  he  entered,  like  many 
other  sophists,  into  the  administration  of  the  Empire.  He  was 
given  high  judicial  functions  in  Egypt.  From  then  on,  he  disap- 
pears from  sight,  and  we  may  supjjose  that,  toward  the  close  of  the 
reign  of  Com  modus,  or  a  little  before  192,  he  died,  still  performing 
these  functions.  The  current  legends  respecting  his  death  bear  no 
marks  of  authenticity. 

The  collection  of  his  works  as  it  has  come  to  us  includes  eighty- 
two  treatises.  About  thirty  seem  to  have  been  attributed  to  him 
wrongly  ;  hence  half  a  hundred  can  be  considered  authentic.  They 
are  all  short  pamphlets,  dialogues,  dissertations,  or  narratives,  whose 
theme  was  suggested  to  the  author  l)y  various  events  or  incidents 
of  the  day,  by  his  reading,  or  by  his  conversation  with  friends.  In 
the  whole  collection,  there  is  not  a  single  composition  which  is  ex- 
tensive enough  to  liave  demanded  long  preparation.  The  character 
of  his  work  reveals  him  as  a  sort  of  combative,  fantastic  journalist, 
before  real  journalism  existed. 

The  most  remarkable  of  his  writings  seem  to  date  from  the 
time  of  his  maturity.  We  may  name  as  such  the  pretty  satire 
On  the  Manner  of  Writing  History,  composed  probably  in  Ionia 
shortly  before  165;  the  Herviotimns,  in  which  the  author,  forty 
years  of  age,  professes  scepticism    in    matters   of   philosophy ;   the 


The  Hellenic  Revival  521 

Double  AcciiscUion,  the  Sects  at  Auction,  and  the  Angler,  which  are 
the  first  ringing  polemics  of  the  Athenian  period;  next  a  group 
of  small,  but  artistic,  works  dominated  by  a  moral  purpose,  the 
Dialogties  of  the  Dead,  the  Arrival  in  Hades  (KaraTrAou?),  the  Nec- 
romancy, the  Charon,  the  Saturnalian  Letters,  the  Cynic,  the  Cock, 
the  Timon,  the  Aspirations,  the  Symposium ;  also  a  group  in  which 
the  satire  is  chiefly  directed  against  mythology  and  the  superstitions 
of  the  time,  the  Dialogues  of  the  Gods,  the  Sea-dialogues,  the  Icaro- 
menippus,  the  Friend  of  Falsehood,  the  Festival  of  Cronus,  the  Pro- 
metheus, the  Assembly  of  the  Gods,  Zexis  as  a  Tragedian,  Zeus  Convicted 
(Zcvs  cAcyxo/xevos) ;  and  in  a  type  more  special,  the  Parasite,  the  Lex- 
iphanes,  and  the  Pseudologist,  in  which  he  mocks  pedantic  rhetoricians 
and  grammarians.  Among  the  dissertations  must  be  mentioned  the 
Timarchus,  that  Against  an  Ignorant  Book-collector,  the  Teacher  of 
the  Rhetoricians,  and  that  On  Tliose  who  Work  only  for  Pay.  Among 
the  satiric  narratives  is  the  letter  On  the  Death  of  Peregrinus,  in 
which  he  recounts  mockingly  the  suicide  of  the  Cynic  of  that  name, 
who  cast  himself  into  the  fire  at  the  Olympic  Games,  probably  in 
165 ;  the  True  History,  a  parody  of  the  fantastic  inventions  common 
among  poets,  travellers,  and  even  historians  and  geographers ;  the 
Alexander,  a  satiric  sketch  of  the  life  of  the  impostor  Alexander  of 
Abonuticlios,  who  founded,  in  the  time  of  Marcus  Aurelius,  an 
oracle  in  Pontus ;  and  the  Ass,  in  which  he  describes  jestingly,  in 
the  manner  of  Lucius  of  Patras,  the  metamorphosis  of  a  man  into 
an  ass,  and  his  adventures  as  such. 

In  the  capricious  and  rather  incoherent  diversity  of  his  writings, 
there  is  evident  a  man  whose  character,  role,  and  genius  merit  at 
least  brief  consideration. 

Charmed  by  sophistry  in  his  youth,  he  was  at  first  a  rhetorician, 
like  the  others.  As  such,  he  acquired  keenness  of  mind,  power  and 
elegance  of  language,  flexibility  in  dialectic,  and  a  sparkling  variety 
of  ideas,  images,  and  facts.  But  there  was  developed  also  an  inerad- 
icable frivolity,  too  ready  to  be  content  with  the  necessaries  for 
playing  a  role.  At  about  forty  years  of  age,  his  active,  intuitive, 
sincere  nature  revolted.  The  rupture  secured  him  a  place  apart 
from  his  contemporaries.  It  showed  in  him  a  loyalty  and  boldness 
greatly  to  his  honor.  He  maintained  his  cause  courageously  and 
witli  infinite  tact,  not  letting  himself  be  disturbed  by  the  ill-feelings 
which  he  excited.  He  liad  undertaken  to  defend  the  truth,  and  pur- 
sued his  enterprise  courageously.  Put  to  defend  the  truth,  one  must 
possess  it,  or  at  least,  seek  it  seriously.  He  loved  neitlier  study  nor 
long  reflection ;  quick  intuitions  suited  him  better ;  and  he  affirmed 
as  true  whatever  he  happened  to  believe.     There  was  lightness  and 


522  Greek  Literature 

infatuation  in  this  foe  of  falsity  ;  at  bottom,  there  was  even  a  nar- 
row conception  of  truth,  since  he  based  it  upon  evidence  which  was 
often  only  apparent.  He  himself  lacked  a  doctrine.  Half  Epicurean, 
half  Cynic  in  morals,  his  ideal  consisted  in  prudent  living,  keeping 
free  from  illusions,  attaching  himself  to  nothing  firmly,  and  being 
independent  of  every  one.  This  is  a  negative  and  consequently  in- 
complete doctrine,  condemned  to  remain  in  practice  mediocre  and 
unfruitful.  As  a  representative  of  free  thought,  he  had  the  merit  of 
making  manifest  the  ridiculousness,  the  odium,  the  puerilities  of  the 
myths  that  formed  the  basis  of  the  Gr^co-Roman  religion.  But  no 
one  took  less  care  to  distinguish  religious  sentiment,  which  is  innate 
in  man,  from  its  temporary  aberrations,  and  to  reserve  as  large  a  field 
for  the  true  sentiment  as  possible.  His  incredulity  is  not  even 
founded  on  science,  which  he  ignores  and  despises ;  it  comes  chiefly 
from  an  instinctive  aversion  of  his  good  sense  to  falsity  and  illusion. 
His  arguments  he  borrows  purely  and  simply  from  the  current, 
superficial  Epicureanism.  From  every  point  of  view,  then,  there  is 
something  deficient  in  him.  He  is  a  man  of  initiative  and  honesty, 
but  hasty,  and  content  with  the  half-truth.  To  this,  however,  he 
lends  a  vivid  seductiveness,  and  a  momentary  appearance  of  plausi- 
bility. 

Though  rather  a  man  of  action  than  a  thinker,  he  is  really  superior 
as  a  writer.  The  foundation  of  his  talent  is  wit  in  the  modern  sense 
of  the  term,  the  gift  of  ready  opinions,  of  pleasing  discoveries,  and 
of  satiric  phrases.  His  thought  is  singularly  clear  and  quick,  his  in- 
sight keen,  clear,  and  ready,  his  invention  full  of  delightful  fancy, 
his  dialectic  ingenious,  always  at  hand,  and  singularly  fertile  in  un- 
foreseen suggestions.  His  imagination  is  animated  by  satiric  humor 
and  loves  to  create  playfully,  unmindful  of  strict  artistic  truth,  yet 
with  a  keen  sense  of  the  real  even  when  travestying  it.  What  is 
lacking  in  his  genius  is  a  certain  degree  of  sensibility.  Nothing 
charms  so  much  as  goodness  beneath  irony,  sympathy  beneath  satire. 
There  is  something  harsh  in  the  irony  of  Lucian. 

The  style  is  a  curious  mixture  of  imitation  and  spontaneity. 
But  on  the  whole,  it  proceeds  rather  from  classic  models  than  from 
the  Greek  spoken  in  his  vicinity.  He  had  begun  when  young  to 
read  the  autliors  st\idied  in  the  schools,  both  poets  and  prose  writers, 
and  throughout  life  continued  to  re-read  them.  His  mind  was  per- 
meated with  their  diction.  Owing  to  remarkable  ease  of  assimila- 
tion, he  became  a  true  Attic  tlirough  intereourse  with  them  —  not  an 
exclusive  one,  pedantic  and  intolerant,  like  some  of  his  contempo- 
raries. l)nt  an  Attic  like  the  distinguished  men  of  ancient  Athens, 
who  disdained  nothing  that  was  Greek.     From  them  he  obtained  his 


The  Hellenic  Revival  523 

vocabulary  almost  altogether.  The  turn  of  his  expressions  recalls 
chiefly  that  of  the  Middle  and  New  Comedy,  probably  also  that  of 
forgotten  authors,  such  as  Bion  the  Borysthenite  or  Menippus  of 
Gadara.  In  the  imitation,  whether  consciously  or  unconsciously, 
his  personality  is  everywhere  manifest.  Though  indebted  for  his 
vocabulary  to  his  authors,  he  handled  it  with  charming  cleverness  ; 
in  using  it,  he  has  a  variety  and  richness  that  are  very  rare.  Subtlety 
is  one  of  the  most  striking  features  of  his  language.  It  is  not 
labored  nor  strained,  but  thoroughly  allied  with  satire,  raillery,  en- 
thusiasm, action,  and  all  the  qualities  of  life  and  brilliance.  Even 
force,  when  helpful,  is  not  wanting.  His  sentences  are  adroitly 
formed,  artistic  in  structure,  free  and  flexible.  In  all  his  movements, 
there  is  a  freedom  not  found  in  any  other  writer  of  the  time. 

15.  His  Literary  Creations.  —  Owing  to  these  eminent  gifts,  he 
was  almost  the  sole  original  thinker  in  an  age  when  Greek  genius 
had  almost  ceased  to  be  original.  Several  types  in  literature  trace 
their  origin  principally  to  him. 

The  satiric  dialogue,  doubtless,  was  not  created  by  him  outright. 
As  he  acknowledges,  he  owes  the  idea  and  model  of  it  partly  to  the 
Socratics,  chiefly  Plato,  partly  to  the  comic  poets,  and  partly  to 
Menippus.  But  in  combining  these  contributions  to  suit  his  purpose, 
he  added  his  own  impress,  making  something  new,  which  remained 
his  own.  The  type  is  not  described  by  a  simple  formula.  Some  of 
the  shorter  dialogues  have  but  a  single  situation,  which  is  indicated 
in  the  opening  words ;  for  example,  the  celebrated  Dialogues  of  the 
Dead.  Others  are  developed  into  miniature  dramas,  with  a  kind  of 
action.  This  is  the  type  that  he  seems  to  have  preferred.  He 
achieved  in  it  all  that  was  possible ;  we  may  cite  among  others,  the 
SecAs  at  Auction,  the  Angler,  the  Dorible  Accusation,  etc.  ;  the  action 
is,  of  course,  only  slight.  Very  rarely,  one  finds  rudimentary  di- 
gressions ;  generally  all  is  made  up  of  simple  incidents.  Incidents 
and  digressions  are  proportionate  to  the  importance  of  the  drama, 
which,  in  itself,  is  almost  nothing.  Surprise,  drollness,  vivacity, 
constitute  its  merits.  There  is  plausibility  in  the  fancy,  reason  in  the 
caprice,  but  no  more  than  is  indispensable.  The  action  is  simply  a 
means  for  presenting  vividly  tlie  personages  and  making  thorn  real. 
They  are  beings  without  consistency,  in  whom  all  studiod  psychology 
Avould  be  too  cumbersome.  iSIost  of  them  have  only  the  sketch  of  a 
character,  a  striking  trait  that  is  the  gift  of  their  dramatic  life. 
Menippus  and  Diogenes  are  the  Cynics  among  the  dead  as  they  were 
among  the  living;  Timon  is  a  peevish  misanthrope;  iMicyllus,  a 
simple,  poor  man,  with  abundance  of  wishes,  and  honest.  The  alle- 
gorical personages,  too,  live  this  simple  life.     One  must  see  that  such 


524  Greek  Literature 

conceptions  allow  their  author  every  sort  of  liberty.  He  constantly 
forgets  the  personage  whom  he  is  representing,  to  jest  or  moralize  in 
his  own  name.  It  is  an  added  grace  in  these  works  of  sparkling 
raillery,  where  reason  can  please  only  by  being  in  concealment. 

The  polemic  is  indebted  to  him  almost  as  much.  He  wrote  now 
a  satiric  narrative,  now  an  argument,  now  an  ironical  work  of  instruc- 
tion. If  Greek  literature  had  not  suffered  losses  which  hinder  us 
from  knowing  the  character  of  its  polemic,  we  should  certainly 
find  models  of  each  of  these  forms  of  raillery.  He  renewed  them 
and  excelled  in  them.  If  his  fancy  here  is  less  inventive,  free,  bold, 
than  in  his  dialogues,  it  is  still  everywhere  present,  combined  with 
satiric  animation,  piquant  observations,  ingenious  reflections,  and 
lively  argument ;  and  the  combination  seems  to  have  been  the  dis- 
tinctive feature  of  his  style.  Nothing  is  more  varied  than  the  fabric 
of  these  writings.  Whether  the  composition  be  narrative  or  dialec- 
tic, he  weaves  for  it  a  whole  marvellous  embroidery  of  anecdotes, 
witty  sayings,  citations,  and  classical  allusions,  which,  without 
obscuring  the  leading  design,  enliven  it  in  a  thousand  ways. 
Others  have  as  great  a  gift  of  irony,  some  have  surpassed  him  in 
force  of  argumentation;  but  perhaps  no  one  has  equalled  him  in 
the  dazzling  variety  wherein  he  sports  with  so  much  grace  and 
cleverness. 

The  tale  of  fancy,  of  which  he  has  left  an  exquisite  model  in  his 
True  History,  seems  to  be  his  more  properly  still.  The  original 
which  he  so  pleasingly  imitated  was  the  paradoxical  narrative  of 
travellers,  from  those  of  Odysseus  in  the  Odyssey,  to  those  of  lambu- 
lus  concerning  the  open  sea.  But  to  avow  in  the  very  first  line  that 
one  intends  telling  falsehoods,  and  then  to  keep  one's  reader  amused, 
through  ten  books,  with  avowed  falsehoods,  really  called  for  all  his 
talent ;  especially  as  there  is  no  theme  nor  continuous  satire,  nothing 
but  a  prodigious  series  of  pleasing  or  burlesque  inventions  succeed- 
ing one  another  in  the  most  astounding  variety.  The  gift  of  creat- 
ing forms  and  movements,  the  talent  for  realistic  description  and 
picturesque  imagination,  inexhaustible  wit,  and  boldness  in  absurd- 
ities, make  it  extraordinary.  Among  all  his  creations,  this  had  the 
most  brilliant  success.  Rabelais  and  Swift  drew  their  inspiration 
from  it,  not  to  mention  other  less  illustrious  imitators. 

It  is  evident,  therefore,  how  far  Lucian's  work,  though  connected 
with  contemporary  sophistry,  surpasses  it  in  every  sense.  The 
fashion  of  which  he  took  advantage  might  have  disappeared  without 
his  suffering  thereby ;  he  remained  one  of  the  great  representatives 
of  crood  sense  in  satire,  one  of  the  ever  admirable  masters  of 
raillery. 


The  Hellenic  Revival  625 

16.  Alciphron ;  the  Philostrati ;  ^lian.  —  A  few  other  more  or 
less  direct  disciples  of  sophistry,  though  humble  and  inferior,  must 
not  be  wholly  passed  by  in  silence. 

Alciphron^  was  probably  a  little  younger  than  Lucian,  with 
whom  he  seems  to  have  had  relations ;  and  is  known  from  a  collec- 
tion of  Letters.  The  fictitious  letter  was  a  favorite  exercise  in  the 
rhetorical  schools  of  the  time.  Alciphron  merely  perfected  the 
scholastic  type.  His  letters,  ostensibly  written  by  people  of  every 
sort  and  class,  fishers,  peasants,  parasites,  courtesans,  bring  before 
us  in  short  compass  situations  analogous  to  those  formerly  repre- 
sented in  comedy.  Among  such  fictitious  correspondents  is  Me- 
nander  himself ;  and  all  the  short  dramas  are  supposed  to  take  place 
in  his  day.  An  Atticist  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word,  Alciphron 
loves  to  transport  himself  into  the  Epicurean  Athens  of  the  fourth 
century,  whose  elegance,  easy  manners,  and  brilliant,  dissipated  life 
he  paints  with  grace  and  spirit,  without,  however,  forgetting  the 
miseries  of  the  poor  and  the  avarice  of  the  miserly.  Though  much 
inferior  to  Lucian,  he  has  something  of  his  ease,  adroitness,  and 
playfulness,  though  not  equalling  him  in  fancy  or  delineation,  and 
by  no  means  in  the  worth  of  his  ideas. 

A  little  after  Alciphron  come  two  men  of  the  same  name  and 
family,  uncle  and  nephew,  Philostratus  of  Athens  and  Philostratus 
of  Lemnos,  who  were  both  sophists  by  profession.  They  are  often 
confounded  with  each  other.^ 

Philostratus  of  Athens  owes  his  fame  chiefly  to  two  works,  the 
Life  of  Apollonius  of  Tyana  and  the  Lives  of  the  Sophists.  In  the 
former  he  wrote  the  biography  of  a  celebrated  Pythagorean  impos- 
tor, who  lived  in  the  first  century  a.l>.  The  work,  though  colorless 
and  pretentious,  is  interesting  chiefly  as  showing  the  credulity  of 
the  time.  It  was  composed  at  the  request  of  the  Empress  Julia, 
wife  of  Septimius  Severus,  consequently  before  217,  when  she  died. 
The  Lives  of  the  Sophists  is  a  collection  of  notices,  far  from  forming 
a  history  of  sophistry,  though  giving  an  idea  of  it.  The  series  of 
portraits  is  presented  to  us  bombastically,  fastidiously,  and  with 
uncritical  admiration.  The  lives  have  value  because  the  author 
composed  them  from  collections  of  letters,  traditions  of  the  schools, 
discourses  then  extant,  and  personal  recollections.     From  the  same 

^  Bergler.  Alciphronis  Epi.itul(z,  Leipsic,  1715;  Mcineke,  Leipsic,  ISn-S; 
Soiler.  Leipsic,  1858  ;  liercher,  in  the  Didot  Epistolographi  Grceci,  Paris,  1873  ; 
Wagner,  Leipsic.  1878. 

2  f:uiti(>ns  :  Weslermann,  Paris,  Didot,  1840;  Kayser,  2  vols.,  Leipsic, 
Teubner,  1870-1871  ;  lienndorf,  Leipsic,  1893,  revised  by  Reisch,  1001. 

English  translation  of  the  Life  of  Apollonius  of  Tyana  by  Berwick,  London, 
1809. 


526  Greek  Literature 

author  we  have  a  treatise  On  Gymnastics,  and  some  Letters,  on 
which  there  is  no  need  of  dwelling. 

Philostratus  of  Lemnos  has  left  iis  a  dialogue  entitled  Heroicus, 
and  a  collection  called  the  Images  (Ei/cdves).  The  Heroicus  presents 
a  vine-dresser  of  Eleon,  who  tells  a  traveller  of  some  apparitions 
of  Homeric  heroes  that  he  had  seen,  and  the  daily  conversation  he 
had  had  with  them.  The  dreamy  mysticism  of  the  third  century  is 
mingled  with  testimony  of  some  value  respecting  the  old  legends. 
The  Images  is  better  known.  He  describes  and  explains  sixty -four 
pictures  which,  he  says,  were  in  a  porch  at  Naples.  Real  or  unreal, 
they  are  the  occasion  for  ingenious  and  brilliant  discourses.  There 
appears,  with  the  sophistic  rhetoric,  at  least  grace,  skill,  life,  some 
charm,  despite  the  affectation,  and  even  good  taste. 

At  the  end  of  the  third  century  there  appeared  another  Philos- 
tratus, grandson  of  Philostratus  of  Lemnos,  who  composed,  in  imita- 
tion of  him,  a  second  collection  of  Images,  inferior  to  the  preceding. 
To  these  are  ordinarily  joined  the  Descriptions  of  Statues  ('EK<^pacrei?) 
of  a  certain  Callistratus,  who  is  otherwise  unknown,  but  whose  work 
is  exaggerated,  laborious,  and  fantastic. 

Claudius  ^5i]lianus,^  a  Sabine  of  Praeneste,  was  a  contemporary  of 
Philostratus  of  Athens.  The  latter  counts  him,  not  without  reason, 
as  a  Greek  sophist,  for  he  wrote  much,  and  always  in  Greek.  We 
have  a  treatise  of  his  On  Animals  and  a  collection  entitled  Varia 
Historia.  The  spirit  of  these  works  is  the  same.  They  are  collec- 
tions of  facts,  devoid  of  criticism  and  true  science,  and  hampered  by 
a  deplorable  tendency  to  moralize  and  dogmatize  without  occasion. 
His  composition  consists  in  stringing  together  short  tales  of  his- 
tory, mingled  with  puerile  reflections.  Yet  he  did  not  write 
without  research.  His  false  elegance  threw  an  illusion  over  his  con- 
temporaries, who  seem  to  have  considered  him  a  remarkable  man. 
He  was  surnamed  MtAiyXwo-CTos,  the  "  Honey-tongued  "  ^'Elian.  His 
sweetish  quality  comes  near  inspiring  disgust  to-day.  His  Varia 
Historia  has  worth  chiefly  on  account  of  the  rather  large  number  of 
historical  facts  it  contains.  His  Rustic  Letters  have  preserved  the 
titles  of  a  few  comedies,  freely  recast  in  compositions  of  fancy. 

17.  Poetry:  Oppian ;  Babrius. — The  poetry  of  the  second  and 
third  centuries  closely  resembles  the  sophistry  of  which  it  sometimes 
shows  the  influence.  It  need  not  detain  us  long,  for  it  is  ])oetry  of 
the  schools,  pure  imitation,  with  no  originality,  and,  on  the  whole, 
of  little  value. 

We  may  leave  aside  the  mythological  or  historical  epic,  which  is 

1  Editions:  Ilercher,  Paris,  Didot,  1858  ;  the  same,  2ded.,  Leipsic.  Teubner, 
1864. 


The  Hellenic  Revival  527 

always  insignificant.  Drama  no  longer  existed.  Only  didactic 
poetry  still  had  any  life.  Geographical  poems  may  be  found  at  this 
time,  such  as  the  Tour  of  the  World,  by  Dionysius  the  Periegete, 
medical  and  botanical  poems,  etc.  It  will  be  sufficient  to  select  two 
poets  of  this  type,  Oppian  and  Babrius,  the  latter  of  whom  wrote  fables. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  reign  of  Marcus  Aurelius,  Oppian  ^  of 
Cilicia  composed  a  poem  in  five  books,  On  Fishing  (^kXuvTLKo),  which 
we  still  possess.  There  are  descriptions  and  precepts,  commendable 
for  certain  merits  of  elegance  and  good  living ;  but  scarcely  any  real 
poetry.  Another  poem.  On  the  Chase  (KvvT^ycTt/ca),  is  likewise  attrib- 
uted to  Oppian.  In  reality,  it  seems  to  belong  to  another  Oppian, 
a  Syrian  who  lived  in  the  beginning  of  the  third  century.  It  is 
much  inferior  in  merit  to  the  preceding. 

Babrius,^  however,  has  greater  fame,  and  is  almost  classic.  We 
know  nothing  of  his  personality  nor  of  his  life.  The  very  period 
when  he  lived  is  uncertain.  There  is  reason  for  believing  that  it 
was  shortly  before  the  end  of  the  second  century.  At  various  times 
he  composed  a  series  of  apologies,  of  which  only  a  portion  has  come 
down  to  us.  Most  of  his  fables  are  simply  the  old,  current  ones, 
such  as  tradition  attributed  to  ^sop,  that  were  in  circulation  every- 
where, with  a  small  number  invented  by  him  in  imitation  of  the  early 
ones.  He  has  not  much  imagination,  no  lively  sensibility,  no  original 
turn  of  mind.  His  merit  is  that  of  a  story-teller  of  moderate  talent. 
A  rather  clever  versifier,  he  used  the  iambic  trimeter  called  choli- 
ambic  (halting),  which  has  a  trochee  or  spondee  in  the  sixth  foot. 
It  closely  resembled  prose,  and  was  quite  appropriate  to  his  type  of 
composition.  The  collection  was  early  admitted  into  the  curriculum 
of  the  schools,  and  it  remained  there,  once  having  been  admitted, 
for  by  nature  it  was  a  book  suitable  for  children. 

18.  The  Romance.^  —  Beside  poetry,  we  may  place,  as  a  secondary 
product  of  sophistry,  the  romance,  though  we  must  not  emphasize  the 
term.  The  greatest  interest  of  the  Greek  romance  is  that  it  marked 
the  beginning  of  a  type  destined  to  a  most  brilliant  career.  In  itself, 
it  was  a  mediocre  literary  product. 

^  Edition  by  Lehrs,  Paris.  Didot,  1842,  in  the  volume  of  the  Poctce  Didnctici ; 
the  .scholia  by  Bussemaker  are  in  the  Didot  volume  containing  the  Scholia  in 
Tlu'dcritem. 

-  Editions  :  Kutherford,  London,  188.3.  with  dissertations  and  a  commen- 
tary ;  Crusius,  Leipsic,  Teubner,  189ti  ;  editio  minor,  1897. 

Translation  into  English  verse  by  James  Davis,  London,  18C0. 

3  Editions  :  Ilirschii;,  Srriptorps  Erntici,  Paris,  Didot.  1850;  Ilercher, 
Srriptorcs  Emtici,  2  vols.,  Leipsic,  Teubner,  1850 ;  .7.  IJekker,  Ilcliodorus, 
Leipsic,  Teubner,  1855. 

Consult :  Chassans.  Ilis/oirc  <Iti  nnna)!  ct  dc  >>.«  rupports  in-pr  Vhistoire  dans 
I'antiquite  (jncque  et  latine,  Paris,  1802  ;  E.  Hohde,  D(  r  (jricchischt  lioman  und 
seine  Vurldufer,  Leipsic,  1870. 


528  Ghreeh  Literature 

What  properly  constitutes  romance  is  the  sketch  of  a  developing 
love  sentiment.  In  its  remote  origins,  it  was  connected  with  the 
painting  of  amorous  sentiments  in  the  Alexandrian  period.  It 
sprang  from  the  elegy,  the  idyll,  certain  scenes  of  epic,  the  so-called 
Milesian  Tales,  and  countless  stories  inserted  in  history  and  mythol- 
ogy to  introduce  the  sentiments  then  in  vogue.  But  it  sprang  chiefly 
and  much  more  directly  from  the  exercises  of  the  schools,  from  the 
subjects  which  delighted  the  subtle  fancy  of  the  rhetoricians, 
who  created  at  pleasure  seductions,  attacks  of  pirates  and  brig- 
ands, rapes,  separations,  and  recognitions,  to  obtain  material  for 
their  discourses.  In  was  in  such  exercises  that  the  Greek  mind 
acquired  a  taste  for  improbable  adventures,  multiplied  and  com- 
plicated incidents,  competitions,  and  conflicts,  in  the  most  extraor- 
dinary circumstances;  together  with  the  habit  of  treating  the 
sentiments  as  themes  for  oratory.  These  exercises  established 
the  commonplaces  of  romantic  composition.  From  the  amours  of 
elegy,  the  conventions  of  the  schools,  and  the  fondness  for  digres- 
sion, there  was  formed  the  groundwork  of  Greek  romance.  Its  origin 
shows  the  reason  for  its  innate  weakness  and  meagreness ;  not  aris- 
ing from  observation,  it  seemed  unreal.  It  has  features  of  the 
drama, — its  action,  its  surprises,  —  and  early  received  its  name  (Spafia, 
SpafjMTiKov).  But  what  gives  drama  its  force,  the  natural  action  result- 
ing from  the  characters,  is  precisely  what  was  here  most  wanting. 

The  earliest  known  attempts  at  romance  seem  to  date  from  the 
first  century  of  our  era.  About  that  time  Antonius  Diogenes  com- 
posed the  3fari'els  beyond  TJiide,  in  twenty-four  books,  of  which  we 
have  now  only  a  summary.  It  was  an  incoherent  work,  in  which 
marvellous  adventures  were  developed  to  infinity,  through  the  entire 
world,  and  beyond.  We  likewise  know  the  Bahyloniaiis  only  from 
an  account.  It  was  composed  between  166  and  180  by  lamblichus, 
a  Hellenized  Syrian.  Here  psychology  had  more  place  and  geog- 
raphy much  less.  To  the  third  century  is  assigned,  though  with  no 
very  definite  arguments,  the  collection  of  Ephesian  Tales  of  Xeno- 
phon  of  Ephesus,  which  are  still  extant.  The  romance  has  for  its 
subject  the  love  of  the  beautiful  Habrocomes  of  Ephesus  and  the 
maid  Anthea  —  or  rather  the  incidents  which  separated  them  imme- 
diately after  their  marriage,  and  came  to  a  close  only  with  the  narra- 
tive itself.  Here  are  found,  if  not  complete  portraits,  at  least  some- 
what clear  sketches.  But  the  author  has  the  gift  of  realism  only 
to  a  slight  extent.  His  story  is  light,  sketchy,  and  tends  to  fine 
writing,  but  is  superficial  even  to  dryness. 

The  most  considerable  romance  which  Greek  genius  produced  is 
that  of  Heliodorus,  entitled  the  Ethiopica  or  Theagenes  and  Chariclea. 


The  Hellenic  Revival  529 

The  author  was  a  Phoenician  Greek ;  and  the  effort  has  been  made, 
though  unsuccessfully,  to  identify  him  with  a  Thessalian  bishop  of 
the  same  name.  He  seems  to  have  lived  in  the  third  century.  In 
substance  his  romance  is  like  the  preceding ;  its  adventures  are  of 
the  same  character,  equally  improbable  and  equally  complicated. 
But  it  has  a  merit  of  composition  all  its  own,  and  many  of  the 
personages  represented  have  life  and  good  relief  in  the  drawing. 

To  these  names  let  us  add  that  of  Achilles  Tatius,  author  of  the 
Adventures  of  Leiicippus  and  Clitophon;  and  that  of  Chariton  of 
Lampsacus,  for  his  romance  of  CJiareas  and  Callirrho'e.  Both  seem 
in  date  to  have  fallen  outside  the  period  comprised  in  this  chapter; 
they  belong  probably  to  the  fourth  or  fifth  century,  possibly  to  the 
sixth ;  but  they  are  connected  with  the  writers  just  discussed  through 
their  imitation,  which  is  tasteless  and  insipid.  Their  extremely 
mediocre  productions  are  the  last  examples  of  Greek  romance 
before  the  Byzantine  period. 

Special  mention  is  due  to  a  pastoral  story  of  Longus  entitled 
Daphnis  and  Cldoe.  The  author  was  a  Greek  sophist  of  unknown 
date;  one  can  only  place  him  indefinitely  between  the  second  and 
fifth  centuries.  His  great  merit  is  that  his  romance  was  a  por- 
trayal of  character  and  sentiment,  almost  devoid  of  incidents,  and 
limited  to  a  single  place.  His  heroes  are  two  children,  a  boy  and  a 
girl,  who  almost  grow  up  under  the  reader's  eyes.  There  arises  a 
sentiment  of  love  between  them,  which  gradually  becomes  conscious 
of  itself.  The  few  incidents  are  commonplace  ;  but  the  descriptions 
of  rustic  life  are  graceful,  and  the  study  of  the  sentiment  is  clever. 
It  is  to  be  regretted  that  the  merit  of  the  work  is  sullied  by  false 
ingenuity  and  unrestrained  license  of  imagination. 

19.  Rhetoric  and  Grammar.  —  Before  leaving  the  sophistry  of  the 
second  and  third  centuries,  a  few  words,  though  but  few,  must  be 
said  concerning  the  works  of  philology.  They  may  be  considered 
as  an  accompaniment  or  a  dependency  of  the  sophistic  movement. 

Grammar  was  the  first  element  in  the  education  of  the  time, 
the  first  journey  on  the  way  to  rhetoric.  Some  of  the  masters 
in  the  schools  also  cultivated  it  outside  as  an  interesting  branch 
of  knowledge.  Among  such  theorists  must  be  named,  in  the 
second  century,  Apollonius,  surnamed  Dyscolus,  who  may  be  con- 
sidered one  of  the  originators  of  syntax ;  and  his  son  Ilerodian, 
who  continued  his  labors.^     Next  come  the  lexicographers,  some  of 

1  But  the  works  of  Apollonius  and  those  of  Ilerodian  have  always  been  pub- 
lished separately.  [There  is  an  edition  of  Apollonius  in  the  Corpus  Gramniati- 
conun  Gnvcurum,  by  Schneider-Uhlig  ;  of  Ilerodian  in  3  vols.,  by  Lentz,  Leipsic, 
18G7.— Tr.] 

Consult :  6.  Egger,  Apolloniua  Dyscole,  Paris,  1854. 
2m 


530  Greek  Literature 

whom  dealt  chiefly  with  words,  establishing  or  contending  against 
their  legitimacy.  Most  of  them  were  Atticists,  more  or  less  strin- 
gent guardians  of  the  vocabulary  used  by  the  Attic  writers  of  the 
fifth  and  fourth  centuries.  Others  were  rather  antiquarians,  for 
whom  words  were  facts  needing  explanation  or  allusions  requiring 
comment.  Still  others  associated  the  two  tendencies  to  some  extent ; 
and  this  makes  it  very  difficult  to  classify  them.  We  may  cite 
without  precise  distinction,  the  Atticist  Phrynichus,'  a  contempo- 
rary of  Marcus  Aurelius  and  author  of  a  lost  dictionary  called 
Preparation  for  Sophistry,  and  of  a  work  on  the  CJioice  of  Attic 
Words  ('Attlklo-t^s),  still  in  existence;  Julius  Pollux,^  a  teacher  of 
the  Emperor  Commodus,  who  composed,  under  the  title  of  Onotnasti- 
con,  an  ample  collection  still  extant,  though  rather  confused,  full  of 
information  on  antiquity ;  finally  Harpocration,  probably  his  con- 
temporary, the  author  of  an  excellent  Lexicon  of  the  Ten  Orators,^ 
which  we  possess.  A  special  place  in  the  group  must  be  reserved 
for  a  Greek  of  Xaucratis  in  Egypt,  Athenaeus,  who  lived  at  the 
beginning  of  the  third  century.  Under  the  title  of  Symposium  of 
the  Sophists*  he  has  left  a  real  encyclopaedia  in  dialogue  form.  It 
has  no  literary  value,  but  is  an  inexhaustible  mine  of  details, 
relating  to  the  men  and  the  life  of  the  classical  period. 

The  theory  of  rhetoric  was  also  discussed  at  this  time,  though 
without  reaching  much  greater  perfection.  Only  its  least  obscure 
representatives  can  be  named:*  Hermogenes  of  Tarsus,  a  contempo- 
rary of  Marcus  Aurelius,  who  left  a  number  of  treatises  constituting 
a  regular  course  of  rhetoric ;  Apsines  of  Gadara,  who  lived  in  the 
third  century ;  Menander  of  Laodicea,  somewhat  younger  still ;  and 
above  all,  Cassius  Longinus,  born  about  220,  and  put  to  death  in  273 
for  having  promoted  the  rebellion  of  Zenobia,  queen  of  Palmyra, 
against  the  Emperor  Aurelian.  To  him  has  been  falsely  attributed 
the  anonymous  treatise  On  the  Sublime,  which  has  been  already  dis- 
cussed ;  but  he  enjoyed  in  his  lifetime  a  reputation  as  teacher  and 
critic  which  we  have  no  reason  to  consider  undeserved. 

20.  Philosophy  and  Science  before  Neo-Platonism.  Ptolemy ;  Qalen ; 
Sextus  Empiricus.  —  Serious  or  frivolous,  sophistry,  notwithstaiHl- 
ing  its  success,  was  unable,  either  by  itself  or  with  its  dependencies, 

1  Rutherford,  The  Xrir  Phrimirhus,  London,  1880. 

2  G.  Dindorf,  PoUucis  Onomasticon.  5  vols.,  Leipsic,  1824;  Bekker,  1  vol., 
Berlin,  1846. 

8  G.  Dindorf,  Harporrntwnis  Lexicon^  2  vols.,  Oxford,  185-3. 

*  Editions  :  Schweif^hau.ser.  14  vols.,  Deux-Ponts.  1801-1807;  G.  Kaibel, 
3  vols.,  Leipsic,  Teubner,  1887-1800. 

^  Editions:  Walz.  Ilhetores  Grocci,  9  vols.,  Stuttgart,  1832-1836;  Spengel, 
Rhftorr-s  lirccri.  .'3  vols.,  Leipsic,  Teubner,  1853-18-30  ;  nevp  ed.,  1893. 


The  Hellenic  Revival  531 

to  engage  all  the  activity  of  men's  minds.  We  have  already  seen 
moralists,  thinkers,  and  historians,  who  were  almost  independent 
of  it.  The  period  produced  a  remarkable  scientific  literature  and  a 
worthy  philosophy.  We  shall  speak  of  each  so  far  as  each  interests 
literary  history. 

Without  dwelling,  then,  on  the  mathematician  and  philosopher 
Nicomachus  of  Gerasa,  who  appears  to  have  lived  at  the  beginning 
of  the  second  century,  nor  on  Artemidorus  of  Ephesus,  the  repre- 
sentative of  a  singularly  fantastic  science  which  was  well  esteemed 
in  his  day,  the  'Ovci/joKptVtKov,  or  interpretation  of  dreams,  we  must 
consider  a  distinguished  man  contemporary  with  Marcus  Aurelius. 
This  was  the  geographer,  astronomer,  and  mathematician  Ptolemy 
(Claudius  Ptolemaeus)  of  Alexandria.^  Through  his  Treatise  on 
Astronomy,  he  exercised  a  profound  influence  on  the  science  of  the 
Middle  Ages.  The  work  has  been  handed  down  to  us  by  the  Arabs 
under  the  title  of  Almagesta.  Various  other  works,  partly  preserved 
or  lost,  belong  to  pure  science.  We  may  still  read  his  Geography, 
which  is  almost  wholly  filled  with  nomenclatures  and  technical 
terms,  but  from  which  one  can  get  a  precise  and  interesting  body 
of  information  on  the  Eoman  world  and  its  highways  of  commerce 
and  communication. 

Medicine  and  its  allied  sciences  are  represented  at  this  time  by 
men  whom  even  literature  cannot  ignore.  If  the  botanist  Dios- 
corides  of  Cilicia,  a  contemporary  of  Domitian  and  Nerva,  is  known 
only  as  a  collector ;  if  the  physicians  Rufus  and  Soranus  of  Ephe- 
sus, Xenocrates  of  Aphrodisium,  and  Aretaeus  of  Cappadocia  are 
specialists,  —  the  case  is  not  the  same  with  the  celebrated  Galen 
(Claudius  Galenus).^  He  was  born  at  Pergaraon  in  the  year  131  a.d., 
and  educated  in  all  the  science  of  the  time.  He  became  a  famous 
physician  and  surgeon  under  Marcus  Aurelius  and  Commodus,  and 
was  almost  as  renowned  for  his  talent  as  a  lecturer  and  writer  as  for 
his  professional  knowledge.  He  continued  to  write  almost  to  the 
time  of  his  death,  in  201.  His  works  form  an  ample  course  of  medi- 
cine, comprising  all  the  medical  science  known  in  his  day.  Some  of 
them,  however,  treat  logic,  morals,  and  even  grammar.  He  was  not 
a  highly  original  thinker,  but  had  much  sense  and  extensive  knowl- 
edge, and  wrote  without  affectation  or  carelessness. 

1  There  is  no  complete  edition.  The  Geography  is  edited  by  Wieberg  und 
Grashof,  Essend,  18;59-1845  ;  a  new  edition  is  being  published  for  the  Didot 
Collection. 

-  Edition  by  Kiihn,  20  vols.,  Leipsic,  1821-1830,  in  the  Opera  Medicorum 
GrcEcorum,  vols.  I-XX  ;  Scripta  Minora,  3  vols.,  Leipsic,  Teubner,  1894-1896; 
De  Flacitis  Hippocratis  et  Platonis,  Iwan  Mliller,  Leipsic,  1874  ;  Frotrepticoti, 
Kaibel,  Berlin,  1894. 


632  Greek  Literature 

The  great  movement  of  thought  in  this  period  is  in  philosophy 
proper  and  particularly  in  Neo-Platonism. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  second  century,  philosophy  seemed  to 
be  in  a  state  of  semi-confusion.  No  longer  was  there  any  clearly 
defined  doctrine.  The  old  schools  existed  in  name  only,  but  were 
coming  to  be  much  like  one  another.  Platonism  and  Pythago- 
reanism,  with  elements  of  Peripateticism  and  Stoicism,  tended  to 
form  a  mystic  doctrine  that  awaited  definite  statement  of  itself. 
After  Plutarch,  the  representatives  of  the  tendency  were  obscure 
individuals,  whose  characters  are  to-day  of  interest  almost  solely  to 
erudite  specialists.  The  cynics  were  only  a  crude  sect,  to  which  a 
few  polemics  like  those  of  (Enomaus  of  Gadara,  at  the  end  of  the 
second  century,  could  not  give  literary  importance.  About  the 
same  time,  it  is  true,  scepticism  again  commands  attention,  owing 
to  a  physician  of  the  empirical  school,  who  formulated  and  com- 
pleted the  creed  of  the  sect  in  Sceptic  Commentaries  and  Pyrrhonic 
Sketches}  It  was  Sextus ;  but  his  works,  though  still  extant,  do  not 
seem  to  have  exercised  much  influence  on  contemporary  society. 
They  are  singularly  fastidious;  and  their  principal  interest  to  us 
arises  from  their  discussions  and  the  information  they  give  us  of 
many  opinions  and  theories,  philosophical,  mathematical,  and  even 
linguistic. 

21.  Neo-Platonism:  Plotinus  and  Porphyry. — From  the  confu- 
sion there  finally  arose,  in  the  third  century,  the  remarkable  doctrine 
called  Neo-Platonism.  Its  real  founder  is  Plotinus,  a  Greek  of 
Egypt,  who  was  born  at  Lycopolis  in  204,  and  died  at  Rome  in  270. 
A  disciple  of  Ammonius  Saccas  at  Alexandria,  he  received  from  him 
the  germ  of  his  own  doctrine.  By  his  meditations  in  the  course 
of  a  somewhat  troubled  life  he  gradually  organized  the  doctrine. 
In  244  he  came  to  Rome  to  teach  it  there.  The  last  twenty-six 
years  of  his  life  were  spent  in  the  midst  of  disciples  who  regarded 
him  with  deep  veneration. 

His  lessons  were  revised  in  haste  and  reunited  by  his  disciple 
Porphyry  to  form  the  Enneades,  a  series  of  dissertations  divided 
into  six  groups  of  nine  each.-  They  treated  morals,  the  constitu- 
tion and  government  of  the  world,  the  soul,  reason,  the  nature  of 
being — in  a  word,  almost  all  the  great  problems  of  philosophy. 
Hence  they  constitute  together  a  complete  exposition  of  doctrine. 

Their  teaching  is  a  mystic  eclecticism,  professing  to  be  an  inter- 

1  Editions:  J.  A.  FabriciiLs,  Leipsic,  1718  ;  Bekker,  Leipsic.  1842. 

2  Editions  :  Creuzer,  3  vols.,  Oxford,  18.'}:') ;  the  same,  Paris,  Didot,  1850, 
with  Latin  translation;   H.  F.  Mtiller,  Berlin,  1878  ;  Volkniann.  Leipsic,  188:5. 

Consult:  PMouard  Zeller,  Die  Philosophie  der  Griprhfn,  vol.  V;  Chaignet, 
Ilistoire  de  la  psychologie  des  G-recs,  vol.s.  IV  and  V,  Paris,  1893. 


The  Hellenic  Revival  533 

pretation  of  Platonic  ideas.  In  reality,  taking  those  ideas  as  a 
basis,  Plotinus  erected  a  complex  structure,  into  which  he  introduced 
as  materials,  elements  of  Pythagoreanism,  Aristotelianism,  Stoicism, 
and  even  Epicurean  and  Sceptic  doctrines,  to  say  nothing  of  per- 
sonal contributions.  His  philosophy,  in  this  sense,  was  Hellenism 
in  its  entirety.  The  essential  feature  is  the  conception  of  a  God, 
absolutely  pure,  as  distinct  as  possible  from  matter,  and  infinitely 
removed  from  the  world  in  which  we  live  —  the  world  of  appear- 
ances. To  mount  as  far  as  possible  toward  Him,  and,  to  this  end, 
to  detach  oneself  more  and  more  from  the  ties  of  matter,  was  the 
real  object  of  philosophy  and  the  real  aim  of  life.  Asceticism  is, 
hence,  its  natural  and  necessary  form.  It  asks  that  a  man  deliver 
himself  wholly  to  contemplation  and  envelops  man  in  its  mysticism. 

The  EnneadeSj  in  which  these  ideas  w^ere  expounded,  form  a 
strange,  obscure,  yet  influential  work.  Their  subtle,  vigorous  intel- 
ligence, sustained  by  ardent  faith,  is  admirable.  The  author's 
thought  pierces  through  the  most  difficult  problems  and  delights  it- 
self in  abstractions.  It  is  often  difficult  to  follow,  particularly  as 
he  scorns  care  for  literary  form ;  but  as  the  dark  passages  in  his 
language  come  to  reveal  their  meaning,  one  feels  respect  for  his 
lofty,  vigorous,  marvellously  acute  thinking,  so  untiring  in  the  pur- 
suit of  truth.  The  sentiment  animating  the  research  is  so  noble, 
sincere,  and  passionate  that  one  is  both  convinced  and  charmed. 
He  exercised  a  strong  persuasion  over  those  whom  he  did  not  repel 
in  the  beginning.  Such,  too,  is  the  effect  of  his  work  upon  its 
readers  to-day. 

Neo-Platonic  philosophy  was  a  religion.  Though  rational  in  its 
point  of  departure,  and  in  the  greater  part  of  its  development,  it 
ends  in  ecstasy.  It  appears  in  history  as  the  final  result  of  Hellen- 
ism ;  for  it  is  composed  of  the  thoughts  and  sentiments  of  the  great 
men  of  Greece,  and  coordinates  their  thought  into  a  powerful  unity. 
Still  it  contains  something  which  is  the  negation  of  their  profoundest 
tendency,  because  it  pretends  to  use  reason  as  a  means  of  proceed- 
ing into  the  unknown,  and  finally  dispenses  with  reason  altogether. 
But  in  this  form  of  Neo-Platonic  philosophy  Hellenism  stood  opposed 
to  Christianity,  which  was  then  rapidly  becoming  influential.  Hel- 
lenism in  this  narrow  sense  is  far  from  representing  adequately  the 
grandeur  of  Hellenic  genius. 

Porphyry,  though  profoundly  differing  from  him,  is  inseparable 
from  Plotinus.  Plotinus  lived  absorbed  in  a  single  thought,  to 
whose  elaboration  he  devoted  himself  incessantly  ;  but  Porphyry  was 
more  of  a  scholar  and  many-sided  writer. 

He  was  born  at  Tyre  in  233,  met  Plotinus  at  Rome  in  263,  and 


534  Greek  Literature 

attached  himself  to  him  henceforth.  For  six  years  he  never  left 
him;  Plotinus,  as  we  have  seen,  even  commissioned  him  to  edit  liis 
writings.  After  the  death  of  his  master,  he  lived  in  Sicily,  then 
at  Rome,  and  died  early  in  the  fourth  century.  He  was  much  less 
original  than  Plotinus,  but  quick  to  comprehend,  and  fond  of  expo- 
sition. He  wrote  much.  He  was  a  philosopher,  disputant,  historian, 
grammarian,  and  mathematician ;  but  never  composed  a  really  great 
work.^  Among  his  writings,  the  most  important,  from  a  philosophical 
point  of  view,  is  the  Introduction  to  the  Knowledge  of  the  Intelligible. 
Those  which  interest  literature  most  are  the  Treatise  on  Abstinence, 
in  four  books,  and  the  Letter  to  Marcella.  We  possess  his  interest- 
ing little  work  On  the  Grotto  of  the  Nymphs  in  the  Odyssey,  in  which 
allegorical  interpretation  gives  itself  free  play ;  also  some  fragments 
of  Homeric  Researches.  But  in  these  the  author  appears  to  be  a  medi- 
ocre writer.  None  of  them  gives  a  correct  idea  of  his  importance. 
That  is  best  manifested  in  his  lost  religious  writings  such  as  On  the 
Philosophy  of  the  Oracles,  On  the  Images  of  the  Gods,  and  the  fifteen 
books  Against  the  CJmstians.  He  was  the  principal  defender  of 
Hellenism,  and  so  the  principal  adversary  of  Christianity  in  the 
third  century.  This  phase  of  his  work  is  scarcely  known  except 
from  those  whom  he  combated.  From  what  remains,  we  should 
recognize  in  him  a  man  with  a  talent  for  learning  and  remembering, 
an  indefatigable  worker,  but  a  mediocre  artist  on  the  whole,  who 
was  unable  to  bring  his  product  to  tbe  degree  of  perfection  in  which 
it  would  have  lasting  value. 

22.  Rise  and  Expansion  of  Christian  Literature  in  the  Second  and 
Third  Centuries :  the  Apologists.  The  Doctors :  Clement  of  Alexandria ; 
Origen ;  Hippolytus.  —  When  Porphyry  was  combating  Christianity, 
about  two  centuries  and  a  half  had  passed  since  the  new  religion  be- 
gan to  spread.  But  at  the  beginning  it  had  almost  no  point  of  con- 
tact with  Greek  literature.  The  earliest  Christian  writings,  even 
when  composed  in  Greek,  were,  properly  speaking,  not  literary. 
They  were  simple  narratives,  letters,  instructions,  which  aimed  only 
at  being  useful  morally  and  propagating  Christian  doctrine.  This 
does  not  mean,  to  be  sure,  that  they  lacked  charm  and  originality. 
But  those  who  composed  them  had  no  wish  to  be  known  as  authors ; 
they  adhered  to  no  Hellenic  tradition  and  proposed  to  establish 
none.  The  Gospels,  the  Epistles,  the  Acts,  have,  indeed,  a  character- 
istic nature,  but  no  point  of  contact  with  ancient  or  contemporary 
literature. 

It  is  only  in  the  second  century,  with  the  appearance  of  the  apolo- 

'  There  is  no  complete  edition.  Cf.  Nauck.  Opuscula  Selecta,  2  vols.,  Leip- 
8ic,  Teubner,  1800  and  188(3. 


The  Hellenic  Revival  535 

gists,  that  Christian  literature  connected  itself  with  Hellenic  civiliza- 
tion. It  was  then  rising  from  obscurity  in  many  parts  of  the  Roman 
Empire.  It  excited  the  wrath  of  the  pagan  populations  and  more  still 
the  anxiety  of  the  imperial  police.  The  Christians  became  the 
butt,  on  the  one  hand,  of  official  persecution,  and  on  the  other,  of 
malevolence  and  even  calumny.  They  needed  to  justify  themselves 
either  as  individuals  or  collectively.  The  collective  justification  was 
the  work  of  the  apologists.  These  were  educated  men,  often  con- 
verted pagans,  who  had  studied  in  pagan  schools,  and  generally 
in  those  of  the  philosophers.  They  brought  to  the  composition  of 
their  apology  the  dialectic  which  they  had  acquired  there.  Hence 
at  least  one  element  of  Greek  art  and  Greek  method  put  itself  at 
the  service  of  the  new  doctrines. 

The  apologists  of  the  second  century,  however,  were  only  mediocre 
writers.^  Their  works  are  more  interesting  for  the  history  of  ideas 
than  for  that  of  literary  art.  We  may  pass  by  Quadratus,  a  contem- 
porary of  Hadrian ;  and  Aristides,  who  addressed  his  apology  to  the 
emperor  Antoninus.  But  Justin  merits  more  attention.  He  was  born 
in  Judaea  about  the  year  100.  After  studying  philosophy,  he  was  con- 
verted to  Christianity  about  123.  Then  he  came  to  Rome,  where  he 
seems  to  have  maintained  a  school  of  Christian  instruction.  He  was 
martyred  there  between  163  and  167.  We  have  two  of  his  Apologies, 
one  addressed,  about  150,  to  the  emperor  Antoninus,  the  other,  coming 
a  little  later  and  completing  the  first;  and  also  a  Dkdogxie  icith  the 
Jew  Trypho,  which  is  a  refutation  of  Jewish  opinions  respecting 
Christianity.  The  other  writings  attributed  to  him  are  of  doubtful 
authenticity.  As  a  writer,  he  is  obscure  and  careless,  but  liberal  as 
a  thinker  and  a  man ;  sometimes  there  is  eloquence  in  his  argument, 
but  it  has,  in  general,  the  fault  of  being  confused.  He  is  properly 
considered  as  the  first  master  of  Christian  apologetics.  After  him, 
the  type  was  continued  by  Tatian,  Athenagoras,  Tlieophilus  of 
Antioch,  Aristo,  Miltiades,  and  Irenaius.  None  of  them  had  suffi- 
cient originality  to  make  it  imperative  that  we  dwell  upon  his  works. 

About  the  beginning  of  the  third  century  the  doctors  came  to  join 
the  apologists  ;  great  works  of  instruction  succeeded  the  writings  due 
to  the  circumstances  of  the  times.     Theology  made  its  appearance. 

It  arose  with  Clement  of  Alexandria.^     He  was  born  probably 

^  Complete  edition  by  Th.  Otto,  Corpus  Apologetarum  ChriMinnorum,  9  vols., 
Jena.  1842-1872.  A  new  edition  is  that  of  Gebhardt  und  Harnack,  mit  Texte 
und  Untersuchuniien,  in  course  of  publication  at  Leipsic  since  1882. 

Consult  :  Kriiirer,  Gesrhichte  dcr  altchristlirhen  Litteratur,  Leipsic,  1805  ; 
Bardenhewer,  Patrolo(ji<\  Freiburg,  1894  ;  V.  Battifol,  Litteraturc  grecque  chrk- 
tienne,  Paris,  Lecoffre.  1897. 

2  Edition  by  W.  Dindorf.  4  vols.,  Oxford,  1809.  See  also  Eug.  de  Faye, 
Clement  (VAlezatidrie,  Paris,  1898. 


536  Greek  Literature 

in  Greece  about  160,  and  seems  to  have  settled  in  Egypt  twenty 
years  later.  There  the  regular  instruction  of  Christianity  was  inau- 
gurated. In  form  and  method  the  school  was  like  those  of  the 
philosophers.  It  was  called  the  catechetical  school.  Clement  was 
first  a  student,  then  the  master,  and  held  the  direction  until  about 
203.  Obliged  to  flee  then  from  the  persecution  of  Septimius 
Severus,  he  lived  in  various  cities  of  the  Orient,  notably  at  Antioch, 
and  probably  died  about  215.  Besides  his  lost  writings  and  a  dis- 
course of  secondary  importance,  he  wrote  a  course  of  Christian  phi- 
losophy, which  still  exists  to  represent  his  instruction.  It  includes 
three  parts:  the  Exhortation  (nporpcTrriKos),  the  Educator  (IlcuSaywyo?), 
and  the  Stromates  (STpw/uaTcts).  A  perfectly  well-defined  plan  must 
not  be  expected ;  the  author  does  not  seem  to  have  been  capable  of 
that.  His  genius  is  vigorous  and  subtle,  but  lacking  in  literary  dis- 
cipline. An  outline  of  order  suffices  for  him.  His  intention  is  to  lead 
his  disciple  by  continued  progress  from  the  first  steps  in  Christian 
life  to  the  very  acme  of  knowledge  and  perfection.  In  the  Exhorta- 
tion, he  combats  paganism  ;  in  the  Educator,  he  outlines  Christianity ; 
in  the  Stromates,  he  touches  upon  deep  problems  of  theology  and 
morals.  But  the  division  is  rather  apparent  than  real.  Problems 
are  everywhere  introduced,  interlaced  with  the  rest,  and  even  multi- 
plied to  excess.  He  has  the  merit  of  variety  of  thought,  profound 
knowledge,  and  natural  warmth,  sometimes  approaching  eloquence. 
He  is  at  once  a  pamphleteer,  a  doctor,  and  a  poet.  In  the  history  of 
ideas,  his  part  is  that  of  having  introduced  Hellenic  philosophy  into 
Christianity,  and  having  won  acceptance  for  the  explanations  of  the 
Alexandrian  Philo. 

Clement's  successor  was  Origen,^  the  greatest  of  the  Christian 
doctors.  Born  in  185  in  Alexandria,  he  had  Clement  as  his  master, 
and  took  his  place  in  203.  For  about  thirty  years,  notwithstanding 
numerous  absences,  he  made  the  city  the  centre  of  his  activity. 
Later,  forced  to  leave,  owing  to  a  disagreement  with  the  bishop 
Demetrius,  he  taught  for  a  while  at  Csesarea  in  Cappadocia,  suffered 
various  persecutions,  and  finally  died  at  Tyre  in  254. 

He  did  not  cease  writing  for  a  day.  His  work  was  immense,  and 
it  is  in  part  preserved  still.  It  consists  chiefly  of  Commentaries  and 
Scholia  on  the  Old  and  Xeic  Testaments  and  Homilies.  Before  comment- 
iug  on  the  texts,  lie  edited  them :  his  Bible  in  Six  Columns  ('E^aTrAa) 
offered  readers  a  sure  text  in  Hebrew,  Greek,  and  Latin.  But  Origen 
was  really  an  exegete.  Adhering  to  the  method  of  Clement,  though 
with  more  order,  he  explained  allegorically  almost  all  that  he  had 
edited.  Thereby  he  spread  more  widely  than  Clement  the  ideas  of 
1  Migne,  Patrologia  Grceca,  vols.  XI-XVII.  Paris,  1857-1860. 


TTie  Hellenic  Revival  537 

Greek  philosophy,  particularly  those  of  Plato,  in  the  Christian 
schools;  and  though  his  teaching  was  not  wholly  received  by  the 
Councils,  he  had  great  influence  on  the  form  of  Christian  theology. 
His  writings  show  remarkable  fertility  of  mind  and  breadth  of  view, 
and  are  easier  to  read  than  those  of  Clement.  But  they  are  not  great 
as  literary  works ;  mere  improvisations,  they  need  to  be  condensed 
and  subjugated  to  more  rigorous  logic.  Under  the  name  of  a  Refuta- 
tion of  Celsus,  we  have  a  fragment  of  a  lengthy  composition,  in  which 
he  discusses  the  objections  raised,  in  the  second  century,  by  the 
philosopher  Celsus  against  the  new  religion.  All  this  gives  him  a 
place  of  the  first  order  in  the  history  of  Christianity;  but  in  the 
history  of  Greek  literature  his  merit  is  inferior,  like  that  of  all  the 
early  Christian  writers. 

We  might  join  to  his  name  that  of  Hippolytus,  his  contemporary, 
the  author  of  works  of  Christian  philosophy ;  and  those  of  Methodius, 
Pamphilus  of  Caesarea,  and  the  chronographer  Julius  Sextus  Afri- 
canus,  without  modifying  this  judgment.  Christian  literature  was 
still  in  its  infancy.  It  did  not  reach  its  mature  development  till  the 
following  century. 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

LAST  DAYS  OF   HELLENIC  LITERATCTIE 

1.  Closing  Period  of  Sophistry  in  the  Fourth  Century  :  Himerius ;  Themistius  ; 
Libanius.  2.  The  Emperor  Julian.  3.  The  Last  Sophists.  Rhetoric, 
Grammar,  Lexicography.  4.  Profane  History  in  the  Closing  Centuries. 
6.  Philosophy.  End  of  Neo-Platonism.  lamblichus  ;  Synesius  ;  Proclus. 
6.  Poetry  of  the  Closing  Centuries.  Quintus  of  Smyrna ;  Nonnus  and  his 
School ;  the  Anthology.  7.  Christian  Literature  :  its  Rise  in  the  Fourth 
Century.  8.  Christian  Oratory  :  Athanasius  of  Alexandria.  9.  The  Cappa- 
docians  :  Basil ;  Gregory  of  Nazianzus  ;  Gregory  of  Nyssa.  10.  John  Chrys- 
ostom.  11.  Close  of  Religious  Oratory.  12.  Other  Christian  Writers: 
Apologists,  Scholars,  and  Historians.     13.  Conclusion. 

1.    Closing  Period  of  Sophistry :  Himerius;  Themistius;  Libanius. — 

Beginning  with  the  fourth  century,  it  is  the  literature  inspired  by 
Christianity  that,  without  contradiction,  takes  first  rank  in  the  Greek 
Orient.  Profane  literature  did  not,  however,  disappear  at  once.  It 
continued  for  three  or  four  centuries,  and  even  shone  with  some 
brilliance  in  the  beginning  of  the  period. 

The  disturbed  state  of  the  Empire  in  the  third  century  had  not 
been  very  favorable  to  the  schools.  After  their  great  prosperity  in 
the  second  century,  they  had  suffered  eclipse  in  the  age  of  military 
anarchy.  When  peace  had  been  reestablished  by  Diocletian,  and 
particularly  when  the  victory  of  Constantiue  had  assured  for  him- 
self and  his  sons  the  regular  transmission  of  power,  circumstances 
became  more  favorable.  The  schools  adopted  as  their  chief  function 
the  training  of  officers  for  the  imperial  administration;  and  once 
more  numerous  and  talented  youths  were  seen  following  the  instruc- 
tion of  masters  of  renown.  Almost  all  the  larger  Greek  cities  had 
their  groups  of  schools  and  celebrated  professors.  Yet  the  celebrity 
was  highly  artificial,  like  the  eloquence  of  the  orators.  Eunapus,  in 
his  Lives  of  (he  Sophists,  has  preserved  the  names  of  some  of  these 
professor.?,  with  details  of  their  personality  and  talent.  But  the 
only  ones  meriting  special  mention  here  are  those  whose  principal 
works  are  extant,  —  Himerius,  Themistius,  and  Libanius. 

Himerius  of  Prusa  taught  chiefly  at  Athens,  under  Constantius, 
Julian,  Jovian,  Valens,  and  Theodosius,  from  about  350  to  386.'    He 

'  Edition  by  Dindorf,  Paris,  Didot,  1849,  in  the  volume  with  Philostratorum 
Opera. 

638 


Last  Days  of  Hellenic  Literature  539 

had  numerous  disciples,  including  Basil  of  Caesarea  and  Gregory  of 
Nazianzus,  who  became  bishops.  Of  his  works  we  have  some  thirty- 
discourses,  in  part  incomplete.  What  he  most  lacked  was  ideas. 
No  contemporary  writer  did  less  thinking.  Oratory  and  practical 
life,  as  he  understood  them,  resembled  the  poetry  and  the  music  of 
the  time.  The  poetry  was  thoroughly  superficial,  lacking  in  force 
of  sentiment;  the  miisic  was  caressing  and  monotonous,  content  with 
having  charmed  the  ear.  Imbued  with  the  language  of  the  poets,  he 
readily  embodied  their  verses  in  his  melodious  prose.  Hence  we 
owe  to  him  paraphrases  of  some  lost  poems  of  Alcaeus,  Sappho,  and 
Anacreon. 

Themistius  was  more  serious.  He  maintained  a  school  of  phi- 
losophy at  Constantinople  from  about  350  till  395,  and  obtained  the 
most  brilliant  success.'  Before  his  students  he  commented  upon  the 
works  of  various  philosophers ;  but  in  addition  to  technical  instruc- 
tion he  loved  to  utter  in  public  his  smoothly  flowing,  sparkling 
periods  on  subjects  of  morality.  As  a  senator  at  Constantinople,  he 
was  the  orator  designated  to  speak  on  all  occasions  of  haranguing 
the  emperors.  This  favor  he  owed  to  his  talent,  and  his  character 
enabled  him  to  perform  the  task  with  honor.  In  a  time  of  universal 
adulation  he  could  speak  to  the  emperors  with  dignity,  and  give 
them  at  times,  in  the  form  of  eulogy,  some  useful  counsel.  More 
difficult  still,  in  a  society  torn  by  religious  discord,  he  kept  the 
esteem  of  all,  pagans  and  Christians,  remaining  faithful  to  Hellen- 
ism, though  not  attacking  the  new  beliefs.  Of  his  works  there 
remain  a  collection  of  Paraphrases  of  Aristotle,  whose  principal 
merit  lies  in  the  clearness  of  their  interpretation ;  and  a  little  less 
than  forty  Discourses  relating  to  various  events  of  the  time,  or  to  his 
own  life.  His  oratory  generally  appears  soft  and  ornate,  official  and 
academic  ;  but  it  had  grace,  nobility,  and  brilliance,  and  is  inspired 
with  lofty  sentiments,  which  give  it,  at  least  in  certain  portions, 
somewhat  of  force. 

The  most  illustrious  of  the  pagan  masters  of  the  fourth  century 
was  Libanius  of  Antioch."  He  was  born  in  314,  and  taught  rhetoric 
to  some  extent  at  Athens,  Constantinople,  NicuBa,  and  Nicomedia, 
but  chiefly  at  Antioch,  where  he  seems  to  have  dwelt  from  354  to 
his  death,  which  occurred  after  391.  Owing  to  his  talent  and  the 
favor  of  the  emperors,  particularly  Julian,  he  became  one  of  the 
great  personages  of  the  Greek  Orient.  Far  from  shutting  himself 
up  in  his  school,  he  took  an  interest  in  everything.     He  addressed 

1  Themistius,  DiscnurKPS,  Dindorf,  Leipsic,  1882  ;  Paraphrases  of  Aristotle, 
Speiigel,  2  vols.,  Leipsic,  Teiibncr,  \HC)I'>. 

2  Edition  by  Keiske,  4  vols.,  Altenburg,  1791-1797. 


640  Greek  Literature 

discourses  to  generals,  prefects,  and  emperors,  treating  the  affairs  of 
his  city,  and  acting  according  to  circumstances  as  its  patron,  pane- 
gyrist, counsellor,  and  defender.  He  wrote  constantly  and  to  every 
one,  asking  questions,  making  recommendations,  or  giving  thanks 
or  compliments.  All  that  the  institutions  of  the  time  allowed  in 
the  way  of  political  activity  he  displayed.  But  he  always  refused 
public  office,  except  the  honorary  dignity  of  quoestor,  which  was  con- 
ferred on  him  by  Julian. 

His  preserved  writings  are  very  numerous.  Perhaps  a  third  con- 
sists of  models  of  scholastic  exercises,  curious  specimens  of  the 
sophistry  of  the  times.  We  owe  to  him  also  a  Life  of  Demos- 
thenes and  a  series  of  very  useful  arguments  indicating  the  occasion 
and  the  subject  of  the  great  orator's  discourses.  Then  we  have  sixty- 
five  of  his  harangues — lectures  and  discourses  of  various  sorts  — treat- 
ing in  general  either  ethical  subjects  or,  more  often,  contemporary 
events.  The  latter  are  the  more  interesting.  Some  disclose  the 
manners  of  the  schools,  the  rivalries  of  the  masters,  or  the  passions 
of  the  disciples ;  others  give  a  glimpse  of  the  life  of  the  time,  repre- 
senting certain  of  the  chief  Greek  cities  of  the  Orient,  their  appear- 
ance, their  population,  their  disturbances;  almost  all  permit  us  to 
see  the  imperial  administration  at  work ;  and  several  portray  rather 
vividly  the  character  of  emperors  of  the  period.  We  may  mention 
specially  the  first  discourse.  On  my  Oicn  Fortunes;  and  the  second, 
the  Exdogy  of  Antioch.  To  these  oratorical  works  must  be  added  an 
ample  correspondence,  which  is  no  less  interesting. 

His  misfortune  lay  in  his  opposition  to  the  movement  of  his 
century.  Popular  sentiment  was  being  alienated  more  and  more 
from  paganism  and,  by  a  natural  consequence,  fondness  for  profane 
study  waned  in  fervor.  On  the  contrary,  being  profoundly  imbued 
with  Hellenism  from  childhood,  and  devoted  in  his  admiration  for 
the  great  Greek  authors,  he  could  not  understand  how  one  should 
fail  to  find  in  them  one's  highest  ideal.  If  he  had  no  animosity 
against  the  Christians,  many  of  whom  were  his  friends,  Christianity 
as  a  doctrine  seemed  impious,  and  as  a  form  of  social  life,  semi-bar- 
barous. Above  all,  the  monks,  whose  numbers  were  increasing  be- 
fore his  eyes,  were  obnoxious ;  he  saw  in  them  the  enemies  of  beauty, 
reason,  and  civilization.  The  decline  of  study  particularly  pained 
him.  but  he  felt  powerless  to  prevent  it;  and  his  talent,  which,  in 
other  times  would  have  been  usefully  employed  in  action,  spent  itself 
vainly  in  complaints.  His  ability  was  extolled  beyond  measure  by 
the  Byzantines.  Really  oratorical  qualities,  however,  were  mediocre 
in  him.  He  had  neither  vigorous  dialectic  nor  sustained  passion. 
He  confined  himself  to  details,  delighted  in  petty  inventions,  and 


Last  Days  of  Hellenic  Literature  541 

aimed  to  display  his  graces  by  a  fastidious  affectation.  His  sentences 
are  awkward  and  sometimes  obscure.  Yet  one  cannot  deny  that  he 
possessed  spirit,  imagination,  subtlety  of  ideas,  ingenious  invention, 
and  in  many  passages  undoubted  sincerity  of  tone. 

2.  The  Emperor  Julian.^ — With  the  pagan  sophistry  of  the  fourth 
century  is  connected  a  remarkable  man,  the  Emperor  Julian,  who 
towers  high  above  it  in  many  ways.  Born  in  331,  he  was  suspected 
and  almost  proscribed  by  Constantius,  then  raised  by  him  to  the 
dignity  of  Caesar.  He  became  emperor  in  361,  and  died  two  years 
later  in  an  unfortunate  campaign  against  the  Persians.  In  his  child- 
hood he  had  been  compelled  against  his  wish  to  follow  the  teach- 
ings and  education  of  the  Christians.  He  secretly  revolted  and 
attached  himself  the  more  strongly  to  Hellenism.  When  he  came 
into  power,  his  efforts,  as  every  one  knows,  tended  to  restore  the  old 
faith. 

He  studied  under  the  rhetoricians  and  philosophers  of  his  day ; 
and  their  influence  is  found  in  his  writings.  In  belief,  he  was  Neo- 
Platonic ;  in  his  manner  of  writing,  a  sophist,  though  endowed  with 
an  original  and  vigorous  personality.  Three  official  discourses  of  his 
still  extant  (two  Panegyrics  on  the  Emperor  Constantius  and  a  Eulogy 
of  the  Empress  Eusebia)  show  scarcely  more  than  faithful  imitation 
of  models  then  fashionable.  The  true  Julian  appeared  in  the  sin- 
cerer  works  of  his  maturity.  His  Commentaries,  relating  to  his 
campaigns  in  Gaul,  are  lost.  But  we  possess  various  discourses  in 
which  he  reveals  his  sentiment,  such  as  the  Consolations,  the  Letter 
to  TJiemistius,  the  oratorical  hymns  in  prose  To  the  Sun  King  and  To 
the  Mother  of  the  Gods,  curious  embodiments  of  his  religious  reve- 
ries, his  mystic  sentimentality,  and  his  favorite  dreams.  The  keen, 
satiric  tendency  of  his  mind  is  manifested  chiefly  in  his  work  in  three 
books  Against  the  Christians,  of  which  only  fragments  remain.  We 
see  it  again  in  all  its  vividness  in  the  Misojwgon,  a  polemic  com- 
posed in  363  against  the  inhabitants  of  Antioch,  who  made  him  the 
subject  of  a  song;  and  in  the  Symposium  (or  the  Ccesars),  a  mediocre 
composition,  in  which  lie  criticises  his  predecessors.  The  body  of 
writings  is  completed  by  an  extensive  correspondence,  including, 
unfortunately,  some  letters  of  doubtful  authenticity. 

As  he  died  at  the  age  of  thirty-three,  he  had  not  the  opportunity 
to  display  fully  his  talent.  He  was  a  thinker,  historian,  moralist, 
and  satirist ;  but  above  all  a  man,  whose  human  nature  was  revealed 

1  Editions  :  Ilertlcin,  2  vols.,  Leipsic,  Teubner,  1875-1876  ;  C.  J.  Neumann, 
luliani  Imperatoris  Lihrorum  conlra  ChrUtianos  quae.  Snpersiuit,  Leipsic,  1880  ; 
Bidez  et  Cumonl,  Ri-cherchcs  sur  la  tradition  manuscrit  des  lettres  de  VEmpe- 
reur  Julien,  Brussels,  1898. 


542  Greek  Literature 

at  every  instant  beneath  the  literary  conventions  of  the  times ;  even 
his  prejudices  and  passions  would  have  contributed  to  give  him 
originality  as  a  writer.  He  did  not  live  long  enough  to  free  himself 
from  the  influence  of  his  masters  and  fully  manifest  himself. 

3.  The  Last  Sophists.  Grammar,  Rhetoric,  Lexicography.^  —  After 
the  fifth  century  pagan  oratory  went  on  declining,  and  intellectual 
activity  was  directed  more  and  more  to  the  service  of  Christianity. 
Nevertheless,  the  schools  subsisted.  The  masters  were  often  Chris- 
tians, yet  their  instruction  was  still  wholly  secular  and  traditional. 
But  it  grew  ever  more  commonplace,  void  of  ideas,  and  sterile. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  fifth  century  a  pupil  of  Libanius,  the 
rhetorician  Aphthonius,  published  his  Preparatory  Exercises,  the  last 
product  of  Greek  rhetoric.  Then  appeared  a  swarm  of  commentators, 
who  wearied  themselves  with  their  continual  repetitions.  In  the  fifth 
century  a  school  of  some  renown,  that  of  Gaza,  attained  a  reputation 
which  lasted  into  the  next  century.  Its  best-known  representative 
is  Coricius,  the  foremost  secular  orator  in  the  time  of  Justin  and 
Justinian.  Some  of  his  Declamations  and  Discourses  are  extant,  but 
we  find  in  them  little  more  than  an  empty,  pretentious  eloquence. 

After  him,  there  are  no  other  names  to  cite.  Everything  declined 
in  the  eastern  part  of  the  Empire,  owing  to  barbarian  invasions  and 
unhappy  religious  quarrels.  Sophistry  was  in  its  death-throes.  It 
is  the  period  of  the  romances  already  touched  upon.  It  is  that,  too, 
of  collections  of  fictitious  letters,  among  which  it  will  suffice  to 
mention  that  of  Aristaenetus,  a  mediocre  imitator  of  Alciphron. 

Strictly  grammatical  erudition  was  then  represented  chiefly  by 
lexicographers,  of  whom  we  need  not  speak  in  detail.  We  may  men- 
tion simply  Orion  and  Hesychius  of  Alexandria.  The  Etymological 
Lexicon  of  the  former  is  lost ;  but  it  seems  to  be  the  source  of  the 
leading  Etymologica  of  the  Middle  Ages,  which  are  still  extant.  Of 
the  latter  we  have  a  Glossary,  important  chiefly  because  it  has  pre- 
served many  of  the  rare  words  employed  by  the  poets,  and  sometimes 
effaced  or  replaced  in  our  manuscripts  by  unfaithful  copyists.  Beside 
the  lexicons  must  be  placed  Florilegia  of  thoughts  and  choice  i)assages. 
The  only  work  of  the  kind  preserved  in  anything  like  coin])leteness  is 
that  of  John  of  Stoba^a  in  Macedon,  commonly  called  Stoba^us,  wlio 
seems  to  have  lived  in  the  sixth  century.  His  Florileginm  has  pre- 
served from  annihilation  numerous  ])ages  of  the  ancient  authors.^ 

4.  Profane  History  in  the  Closing  Centuries.'' — "We  dismissed  his- 
torical writing  when  it  was  again  attaining  some  merit  at  the  hands 

^  See  the  collections  of  the  Rhetovps  Grc^ci.  p.  o30,  n.  6. 
^  Edition  by  Wachsmuth  u.  Hense,  ?,  vols.,  Leipsic.  1884-1895. 
^  We  can  only  refer  the  reader  to  C.  Miiller,  Fr.  Hist.  Gr.,   and  Dindorf, 
Hist.  Grcec.  Minores,  sup.  cit. 


Last  Days  of  Hellenic  Literature  543 

of  the  historians  of  the  second  and  third  centuries.  In  the  follow- 
ing period,  it  did  not  cease  to  be  cultivated  and  held  in  esteem.  But 
apparently,  firm  and  lofty  qualities  of  judgment  were  wanting  more 
and  more  in  its  devotees.  After  passing  through  the  schools  of 
rhetoric,  they  almost  all  wrote,  in  pretentious  language,  simple 
chronicles ;  or  else,  by  a  tendency  no  less  mischievous,  allowed 
history  to  degenerate  into  panegyric. 

In  the  fourth  century  the  glory  of  Constantine  and  his  sons  was 
extolled  by  a  number  of  rhetorical  historians,  such  as  Praxagoras  of 
Athens  and  Bemarchius  of  Caesarea.  Eunapus  of  Sardis,  who  is 
better  known  (346-414  approximately),  wrote  an  account  of  the 
events  of  his  age  (270-404),  reserving  the  place  of  honor  for  Julian. 
The  fragments  which  remain  give  but  an  incomplete  idea  of  it.  No 
doubt  there  was  manifest  a  pronounced  party  tendency.  As  a  mili- 
tant pagan,  he  criticised  men  and  things  from  the  point  of  view  of  a 
passionate  believer.  His  bombastic  rhetoric  only  disclosed  the  nat- 
ural mediocrity  of  his  mind.  Besides  his  history,  he  wrote,  under 
the  title  of  Lives  of  the  Philosophers  and  Sophists,  twenty-three  biogra- 
phies still  in  existence.  They  are  those  of  the  leading  representatives 
of  Neo-Platonism,  his  teachers  or  friends,  and  of  some  rhetoricians 
of  the  time.  Although  the  book  affords  us  information  of  value,  we 
must  own  frankly  that  it  has  neither  composition,  criticism,  nor  style. 

The  history  of  Eunapus  was  continued  by  Olympiodorus  early  in 
the  fifth  century,  and  was  then  taken  up  about  the  middle  of  the 
same  century  by  Zosimus,  fiscal  attorney  and  count  of  the  Palace 
under  Theodosius  II  and  his  successors.  His  Neiv  History  ('la-ropia 
via)  is  still  in  existence.  It  is  occupied  chiefly  with  the  recent 
reigns,  the  author  having  been  content,  for  the  earlier  ones,  to  abridge 
Eunapus.  He  stopped  at  410,  with  the  capture  of  Rome  by  Alaric. 
He  wished  to  do  the  work  of  a  philosophic  historian  by  explaining 
the  manifest  decadence  of  the  Roman  power.  In  fact,  he  scarcely 
realized  his  design.  The  great  events,  the  movements  of  public 
opinion,  and  the  tliorough  transformations  of  society,  escaped  him. 
Superstitiously  attached  to  polytheism  like  Eunapus,  he  judged 
important  questions  from  the  narrow  point  of  view  of  a  partisan. 
But  his  work  does  have  some  merit.  Clear  and  judicious  in  detail 
and  full  of  facts,  it  is  sincere,  lucidly  written,  and  exempt  from 
prolixity  and  bad  taste. 

Without  pausing  to  consider  the  secondary  historians  of  the  close 

of  the  fifth  century,  such  as  Priscus  and  Malchus,  we  ma}'  pass  from 

Zosimus  to  the  historians  of  the  sixth  century,  chief  among  whom  is 

Procopius.^     He  was  born  at  Caesarea  in  Palestine,  but  lived  chiefly 

1  Edition  by  Dindorf,  Bonn,  1833-1838. 


544  Greek  Literature 

at  Constantinople,  where  he  held  high  offices  under  Justinian.  He 
died  not  long  after  562,  His  great  historical  work  is  the  eight  books 
On  the  Wars  of  Justinian's  Reign,  completed  in  554.  After  558,  he 
published  a  second  work  in  six  books  On  the  Buildings  of  Justinian. 
The  two  works,  though  valuable,  are  faulty,  resembling  a  continuous 
panegyric.  Under  Justinian,  no  one  could  speak  the  simple  truth  in 
public.  Procopius  got  his  revenge  in  a  Secret  Uistoi-y,  probably  not 
published  till  later.  It  is  a  bitter  polemic  severely  lashing  those 
whom  the  author  had  praised  most  in  his  public  writings,  Justinian 
and  Theodora,  Belisarius  and  Antonina.  Here  he  seems  to  be  merely 
repeating  what  was  said  quietly  in  the  well-informed  circles  of 
Byzantium.  The  three  works,  considered  together,  have  undoubted 
value.  The  author,  a  man  of  experience,  anxious  to  be  well  informed, 
and  gifted  with  sound  judgment,  had  the  skill  to  make  the  society 
of  his  time  seem  to  live  in  accounts  and  descriptions  which  we  can 
still  read  with  interest. 

In  a  group  with  him  may  be  placed  those  who  continued  his  work, 
Agathias  of  Myrina,  Menander  the  Protector  (body-guard),  and  The- 
ophylactus  Simocattes  ;  then  John  Laurentius,  called  the  Lydian, 
author  of  a  lost  History,  and  of  three  extant  treatises  On  the  Months, 
On  the  Roman  Magistracies,  and  On  Celestial  Sigyis  —  works  of  con- 
fused erudition,  yet  of  high  documentary  value. 

Later  on  we  find  only  chroniclers  worthy  of  less  and  less  atten- 
tion. They  can  almost  be  classed  with  the  obscure  Byzantine  annal- 
ists. The  last  one,  John  Malalas,  a  monk  of  the  eighth  century,  is 
already  a  Byzantine. 

The  geographers  of  the  time  after  Ptolemy  have  really  no  place 
in  a  history  of  literature.  Perhaps  only  Stephen  of  Byzantium,  who 
lived  probably  in  the  fifth  century,  deserves  mention.^  His  Ethnica 
is  an  ample  collection  of  notes  on  historical  geography  in  some 
sixty  books.     We  have  only  an   abridgment  of  it. 

5.  Philosophy.  End  of  Neo-Platonism.  lamblichus;  Synesius; 
Proclus.  —  After  Porphyry  and  the  immediate  disciples  of  Plotinus, 
the  Neo-Platonic  school  devoted  itself  more  and  more  to  the  fantasies 
of  a  mystic  theology. 

In  the  first  half  of  the  fourth  century,  its  chief  was  lamblichus* 
of  Chalcis  in  Syria,  an  enthusiastic  dreamer  and  subtle  metaphysi- 
cian, adored  by  his  disciples  as  a  supernatural  being,  working  prodi- 
gies, commanding  demons,  and  conversing  with  the  gods.  He  lived 
in  various  places,  principally  in  Syria,  from  about  280  till  about  350, 

1  Edition  by  Dindorf,  Leipsic,  1824  ;  Westermann,  Leipsic,  1835  ;  Meineke, 
Berlin,  1879. 

-  The  chief  works  of  lamblichus  have  been  edited  for  the  Teubner  Collection. 


Last  Days  of  Hellenic  Literature  5-io 

writing  much,  though  without  concern  for  form.  He  was  far  from 
being  an  original  thinker,  his  chief  task  being  to  adapt  the  doctrines 
of  his  predecessors  to  the  needs  of  his  cult.  Among  his  lost  works,  the 
most  important  is  that  on  Chaldaic  Tlieology,  which  he  pretended  to 
make  one  of  the  sources  of  his  doctrine.  We  have  some  writings  of 
his  relative  to  Pythagoras  and  his  teaching.  Most  of  them  are  com- 
posed of  mystic  dissertations  on  the  science  of  numbers.  If  he  has 
a  place  in  literary  history,  it  is  because  he  represents,  better  than 
any  one  else,  the  state  of  mind  of  some  of  his  contemporaries.  Hel- 
lenism became  with  him  an  ethereal  religion,  whose  devotees  were 
more  and  more  detached  from  terrestrial  concerns  and  lived  wholly 
in  the  supernatural. 

This  Syrian  school  disappeared  after  the  reign  of  Julian.  But 
in  the  fifth  century,  we  again  find  Neo-Platonism  flourishing,  par- 
ticularly at  Athens  and  Alexandria. 

Certain  teachers  attained  fame  at  Alexandria  not  only  as  philoso- 
phers but  even  more  as  mathematicians.  Among  them  is  Hypatia, 
a  woman  whose  teaching  was  very  successful,  but  who  left  no  written 
works.  She  was  killed  in  415  by  a  fanatic  mob  that  saw  in  her  an 
enemy  of  Christianity.  To  this  school  can  be  assigned  Synesius 
of  Cyrene,'  a  pupil  of  Hypatia.  Born  about  370,  he  was  first  a 
philosopher,  then  a  Christian,  who  travelled  some,  but  retired  early 
to  his  own  country,  where  he  possessed  vast  estates.  He  gradually 
inclined  toward  Christianity.  Even  before  he  received  baptism,  a 
popular  vote  had  named  him  bishop  of  Ptolemais.  As  metropolitan 
of  the  Cyrenaic  pentapolU,  though  surrounded  by  difficulties,  he 
administered  it  wisely  and  courageously,  and  died  there  in  413. 
The  letters  he  has  left  are  an  interesting  document  concerning  his 
personality  and  time;  though  not  exempt  from  artificial  rhetoric, 
they  have  some  charm.  We  have  also  other  writings  of  his,  includ- 
ing a  sophistic  Eulogy  of  Baldness,  various  harangues  and  treatises, 
a  philosophic  dialogue  entitled  Dio,  which  is  one  of  his  best  works, 
and  some  Homilies  and  Discourses,  which  come  from  the  period  of 
his  episcopate.  In  these  lofty  compositions  there  is  dignity, 
authority,  and  gravity  of  tone,  though  with  too  much  poetic  color; 
while  in  the  familiar  compositions,  his  style,  though  somewhat  con- 
ventional, is  not  without  grace.  To  his  literary  prose  must  be  added 
six  hymns  in  the  Doric  dialect,  and  in  Anacreontic  or  logaoedic 
metres.     In  some  the  author,  still  a  x'>^ga">  expresses  himself  in 

1  Complete  edition  by  Petau,  with  a  Latin  translation,  Paris,  1612  and  1633  ; 
Patroloffia  Grceca  by  Migne,  vol.  LXVI ;  Krabinser.  SyiKsii  Cyrencei  Orationes 
et  Homiliarum  Frnrimenta,  Landshut,  1850  ;  the  Letters  in  Epistnloijraphi  Grceci, 
Hercher  (Didot  Collection)  ;  the  Hymns  in  Christ  and  Paranikas,  Anthologia 
Grceca  Carminum  Christianorinn,  Leipsic,  1871. 
2n 


546  Greek  Literature 

dreams  of  Neo-Platonic  metaphysics ;  in  others,  having  become  a 
Christian,  he  changes  his  dogma  without  changing  tone.  Christian 
or  pagan,  all  his  poetry  is  mediocre.  In  the  fifth  century,  the  Neo- 
Platonic  school  of  Alexandria  was  continued  by  Hierocles,  whose 
interesting  commentary  on  the  Golden  Words  of  Pythagoras  we 
possess ;  then  by  various  commentators  of  Plato  and  Aristotle,  such 
as  Hermias  and  Ammonius.  In  the  sixth  century  we  still  meet  with 
commentators  of  those  philosophers,  Olympiodorus  and  David  the 
Armenian.     Later  the  school  vanished  —  we  do  not  know  just  when. 

It  is  at  Athens  that  the  fortunes  of  Neo-Platonism  must  be  fol- 
lowed after  the  fifth  century.  There  the  teaching  of  the  doctrine 
was  revived  after  the  close  of  the  fourth  century,  by  Nestorius  and 
Plutarch,  the  latter  of  whom  died  in  431.  His  successors  were  Syri- 
anus  and  Proclus,  the  last  great  representatives  of  the  Neo-Platonic 
school. 

Proclus  ^  was  born  at  Constantinople  in  410  and  taught  at  Athens 
for  almost  fifty  years,  from  about  438  till  his  death  in  485.  Like  all 
the  later  Neo-Platonists,  he  wrote  as  if  inspired  ;  but  to  the  inspira- 
tion he  added  vast  learning  and  a  veritable  gift  of  organization. 
Many  of  his  works  are  lost.  There  remain,  however,  various  Com- 
mentaries on  Dialogues  of  Plato,  several  philosophic  essays,  and  six 
Hymns,  the  remnants  of  a  more  extensive  poetic  collection,  in  which  he 
piously  expressed  sentiments  of  devotion.  To  him  is  attributed  also, 
though  doubtfully,  a  commentary  on  the  Works  of  Hesiod,  and  a 
Chrestomathy.  His  part  is  very  important  in  the  history  of  Xeo- 
Platonism.  Without  essentially  adding  anything,  he  completed  and 
finished  its  organization.  But  his  literary  merit  is  mediocre.  A 
mere  visionary  dialectician,  he  expressed  some  dry  thoughts  that 
resemble  algebraic  formulas.  His  work  is  an  obscure  mathematics, 
and  still  worse,  is  based  often  on  the  "  void." 

In  completing  Xeo-Platonism  and  enclosing  it  in  a  rigorous 
frame,  he  made  it  inert  and  incapable  of  life,  —  made  scholasticism 
of  it.  After  his  death,  the  school  languished  till  its  complete  dis- 
appearance. In  the  sixth  century,  we  find  nothing  at  Athens  or 
Alexandria  but  commentators  or  interpreters.  The  best  known  are 
Damascius,  author  of  Problems  and  Solutions;  and  Simplicius,  to 
whom  we  owe,  among  other  works,  a  commentary  on  the  Manual 
of  Epictetus.  In  529  an  edict  of  Justinian  closed  the  schools  at 
Athens.  The  proscribed  philoso]>hers  retired  to  Persia.  They 
returned  a  little  later,  and  the  doctrine  continued  in  their  hands  for 
almost  another  century,  growing  more  and  more  unimportant.     The 

1  Edition  of  lii.s  works  by  V.  Cousin.  6  vols.,  Paris,  1820-1827  and  18G4. 
Englisli  iranshiiion  by  Taylor,  4  vols..  London,  1816-1820. 


Last  Days  of  Hellenic  Literature  547 

upper  classes  of  society  were  fast  being  won  to  Christianity.  Non- 
Christian  philosophy  became  impossible  in  the  Greek  world.  The  rem- 
nants of  Neo-Platonism  filtered  in  and  were  lost  in  Byzantine  theology. 

6.  Poetry  of  the  Closing  Centuries.  Quintus  of  Smyrna ;  Nonnus 
and  his  School;  the  Anthology.  — Before  leaving  pagan  literature,  a 
few  words  must  be  said  about  poetry,  which  lived  side  by  side  with 
sophistry  in  these  later  centuries,  was  nourished  from  the  same 
sources,  and  disappeared  with  it.  Only  two  of  its  types,  the  epic 
and  the  lyric  poem,  showed  any  real  vitality  after  the  second  century 
had  passed. 

The  epic  of  the  day  was  purely  the  work  of  the  schools.  Its  life 
was  one  of  memory  and  imitation.  Quintus  of  Smyrna,  a  little- 
known  poet,  is  placed  by  conjecture  in  the  fourth  century,  and  has 
left  us  a  heroic  poem  entitled  After  Homer  (Ta  fxtd'  'Oix-qpov)}  He 
reports,  in  the  fashion  of  the  cyclic  poets  and  mythographers,  the 
events  from  the  death  of  Hector  to  the  capture  of  Troy  and  the 
return  of  the  Greeks.  His  epic  is  refined,  and  correct  in  order  and 
versification,  but  without  poetic  originality.  A  little  later  appeared 
a  much  more  important  poet,  Nonnus  of  Panopolis  in  Egypt,  who 
was  almost  the  originator  of  a  school  in  the  beginning  of  the  fifth 
century.  He  seems  to  have  lived  at  Alexandria.  In  the  early 
years  of  Constantine,  apparently,  he  composed  there  an  immense 
mythological  epic  in  forty-eight  cantos  —  the  Dionysiaca?  As  early 
as  the  third  century,  the  legend  of  Bacchus  had  been  put  into  epic 
form  by  another  Egyptian  Greek,  Soterichus  of  Oasis,  in  his  Bas- 
sarica.  Nonnus,  an  ambitious,  exaggerative  writer,  while  treating 
the  subject  anew,  gave  it  an  unparalleled  length,  and  seems  to  have 
regarded  the  achievement  as  a  token  of  force  and  grandeur.  The 
central  thought  is  the  expedition  of  Bacchus  against  the  Indians. 
About  this  theme  are  grouped  episodes  without  number.  The  mass 
of  poetry,  which  seems  formidable  to-day  to  the  most  intrepid 
readers,  shows  in  its  author  an  interesting  mixture  of  good  qualities 
and  marked  defects.  He  had  real  force  of  invention,  an  imagination 
sometimes  vigorous,  and  a  remarkable  instinct  for  the  music  of 
verse.  He  spoiled  these  gifts  by  pompous  declamation,  puerile  bom- 
bast, and  fine  writing.  His  style  is  inflated,  empty,  and  singularly 
obscure.  His  versification  is  enslaved  to  rules  that  he  himself 
created,  and  seems  monotonous  and  artificial.  Becoming  a  Christian, 
he  composed  a  Para]>hrase  of  the  Gospel  of  St.  John  in  verse.  It  is 
little  more  than  an  exercise  in  prosody. 

1  Editions  by  Lehrs,  Paris,  Didot,  1839.  in  the  volume  with  Ilesiod;  and  by 
Zimrnerinan.  Leipsic,  Teubner,  18!*1. 

^  Edition  by  Kijchly,  2  vols.,  Leipsic,  Teubner,  1857. 


648  Chreek  Literature 

Such  as  he  was,  he  had  his  followers.  The  reform  in  versifica- 
tion which  he  introduced  was  popular.  His  influence  over  almost 
all  succeeding  poets  is  manifest.  We  may  name  without  emphasis 
the  principal  ones,  such  as  Tryphiodorus,^  whose  Capture  of  Ilium 
we  have,  a  dry,  frigid  work  in  about  seven  hundred  verses,  with  no 
other  merit  than  elegance  of  form;  Coluthus^  of  Lycopolis  in 
Egypt,  to  whom  we  owe  a  brief,  insignificant  epic  on  the  Eape  of 
Helen;  and  Musseus,^  the  author  of  the  pretty  poem  entitled  Hero 
and  Leander,  a  simple  love-tale  in  three  hundred  verses,  resembling 
both  Alexandrian  epic  and  contemporary  romance. 

In  a  class  by  themselves  must  be  placed  the  Orphic  poems ;  *  but 
we  need  not  dwell  long  on  them.  They  are  all  connected  with  a  mystic 
movement  of  ideas  known  as  Orphism,  which  began  with  the  sixth 
century  b.c,  and  seems  to  have  lasted  almost  as  long  as  paganism, 
though  with  various  transformations.  Some  of  the  poems  have  an 
epic  form.  Such  is  the  Orphic  Argonautica,  assigned  by  conjec- 
ture to  the  fourth  century.  In  this  poem  the  Orphic  tendency  is 
least  noticeable.  The  Orphic  Theogony,  now  lost,  also  belonged  to 
the  group;  and  there  were  hymns,  to  which  it  is  almost  impossible 
to  assign  a  definite  date.  They  excite  more  interest  on  account  of 
their  obscure  formulas  than  on  account  of  any  literary  merit.  To 
the  same  class,  if  not  the  same  species,  must  be  assigned  the  Sibyl- 
line Books,  which  are  merely  worth  a  mention. 

The  lyric  poetry  of  the  imperial  period  scarcely  appeared  save 
in  the  form  of  epigrams  or  songs.  The  ode  proper,  indeed,  still  had 
an  official  existence ;  but  its  extant  remains  scarcely  merit  a  men- 
tion. The  Hymn  to  Nemesis  by  Mesomedes,  a  freedman  of  Hadrian, 
and  the  two  hymns  of  Dionysius  of  Alexandria,  an  unknown  poet. 
To  the  Muse  Calliope  and  To  Apollo,  have  a  place  only  in  the  history 
of  music.  But  the  epigram  and  the  song  produced  works  of  real 
value.  Indeed,  in  this  society  so  fond  of  pretty  sayings  there  were 
in  all  periods  attractive  and  ingenious  epigrammatists.  Toward  the 
close  of  Hellenism,  we  find  more  of  them  than  ever.  At  the  court 
of  Arcadius,  and  above  all,  a  century  later,  in  that  of  Anastasius, 
Justin,  and  Justinian,  they  found  favor.  Agathias,  already  named 
as  a  historian,  Macedonius,  Paul  the  Hermit,  and  many  others 
attained  distinction  among  the  cultured  men  of  the  sixth  century. 
A  collection  of  choice  works  of  theirs  is  found  to-day  in  the  so-called 
Palatine  Anthology.  It  is  a  collection  of  epigrams  for  which  the 
only    manuscript   formerly   belonged    to   the    Palatine    Library   at 

^  Edition  by  Lehrs,  Paris,  Didot,  18.39,  in  the  volume  with  Hesiod. 

2  Ibid. 

8  Editions  by  Lehrs,  ibid.  :  and  Dilthey,  Bonn,  1874. 

^  Abel,  Orjihka,  Leipsic,  Scheukl,  188o. 


Last  Days  of  Hellenic  Literature  549 

Heidelberg.  Its  kernel  was  formed  in  the  tenth  century  by  Con- 
stantine  Cephalas,  and  completed  in  the  fourteenth  by  the  monk 
Planudes.  It  incorporated  previous  collections  of  the  same  nature, 
the  Croion  of  Meleager,  a  collection  by  Philip,  one  by  Strato,  the 
Cycle  of  Agathias,  and  others,  all  of  which  it  has  preserved  for 
us.  At  present,  therefore,  it  is  a  selection  of  choice  extracts,  in 
which  we  can  study  one  form  of  the  polite  literature  of  antiquity. 

The  collection  of  poems  called  Anacreontics  ^  enables  us  to  view 
another  form.  It  contains  brief  songs  which,  since  they  celebrate  in 
general  wine  and  love,  must  have  been  composed  for  festive  re- 
unions. Their  title  comes  from  their  being  written  in  the  spirit  of 
Anacreon  and  to  some  extent  in  the  form  he  used.  The  collection 
has  been  several  times  enlarged.  As  a  whole,  it  represents  the 
imperial  period  down  to  the  Byzantine  Middle  Ages. 

7.  Christian  Literature:  its  Rise  in  the  Fourth  Century.  —  The 
various  j)roducts  of  Greek  intellect  which  we  have  passed  in  review 
in  the  early  part  of  this  chapter  have  all  shown  marks  of  extreme 
decadence.  It  would  seem,  if  one  considered  them  alone,  that,  after 
the  fourth  century,  the  productive  power  of  Hellenism  had  been 
quite  exhausted.  Yet  this  is  not  true.  Greek  Christianity  at  this 
time,  while  adhering  more  or  less  to  the  old  culture,  was  producing 
remarkable  works  of  its  own.  We  must  explain  the  difference,  and 
give  some  idea  of  this  rich  productivity,  at  least  in  so  far  as  it  comes 
within  our  sphere. 

As  we  have  seen,  Christianity  was  indebted  to  Greek  civilization  for 
its  knowledge  of  history  and  the  ideas  and  methods  of  its  philosophy. 
It  had  scorned  art  —  strict  art  —  as  unworthy.  Things  changed  in  the 
fourth  century;  for  the  fabric  of  its  theology  was  almost  finished, 
and  it  received  official  recognition.  It  came  out  of  its  secluded  halls 
to  bask  in  the  sunlight.  Its  representatives  were  no  longer  teachers 
with  an  isolated  group  of  pupils,  as  Clement  and  Origen  had  been, 
but  bisho])s  proclaiming  the  doctrines  of  the  church  before  every 
rank  and  class  of  society.  Their  public  wanted  to  be  charmed  and 
captivated.  And  the  masters,  educated  in  pagan  schools,  applied  to 
their  instruction  tlie  precepts  that  had  been  taught  there.  Art, 
though  exhausted  in  the  schools,  had  a  new  lease  of  life  in  the 
Christian  churches,  where  its  task  was  the  propagating  of  new 
ideas  and  sentiments.  The  bishops  of  the  fourth  century  were 
forced  by  circumstances  to  perform  an  im])ortant  work  in  the 
wdrld.  Owing  either  to  paganism,  which  was  always  ready  to 
revive,  or  to  Arianism,  which  almost  tore  the  Christian  commun- 
ity to  pieces,  thev  needed  to  discuss  grave  questions  before  the 
1  Bcrgk,  Pi)PtiK  L>jrici  Grrvci.  TIT.     Cf.  supra,  p.  122. 


550  Greek  Literature 

emperors  and  their  representatives.  Oratory  had  grown  effeminate 
in  the  schools,  but  regained  its  force  when  it  became  an  instrument 
of  action  once  again.  This  was  revealed  in  moral  discourses  like 
those  of  Chrysostora,  which  were  ardent  polemics,  sustained  with 
apostolic  zeal,  in  the  name  of  an  imperious  creed.  It  was  chiefly  by 
brilliance  in  public  address  that  Greek  Christianity  obtained  a  place 
in  literature.  But  this  was  not  all.  What  had  been  gloriously  achieved 
was  Avorth  recounting.  The  new  religion  had  its  historians,  very 
inferior,  indeed,  to  its  controversialists  and  orators,  yet  worthy  of 
esteem.  But  their  work  was  short-lived.  What  may  be  called  the 
literary  force  of  Christianity  was  soon  exhausted,  —  partly  because 
the  best  thoughts,  once  having  found  expression,  could  only  be 
repeated,  and  this  gave  rise  to  a  commonplace,  mediocre  routine, 
baleful  to  originality ;  and  partly  because  two  things  destructive  of 
oratory  were  developed  in  the  Orient.  These  were  a  fondness  for 
vain  disputes,  for  eristic  subtleties  without  real  value ;  and  an  ascetic, 
or  monastic,  tendency  which  could  end  only  in  scorn  of  art.  Then, 
too.  Christian  literature,  being  under  the  necessity  of  patterning 
after  the  masterpieces  of  paganism,  naturally  declined  as  men  be- 
came alienated  from  the  civilization  of  antiquity. 

These  reflections  will  enable  us  better  to  understand  the  evolu- 
tion of  the  principal  types  which  we  must  now  consider. 

8.  Christian  Oratory :  Athanasius  of  Alexandria.  —  Let  us  go  at 
once  to  oratory,  without  being  too  rigorous  about  chronology  ;  for 
oratory  is  the  principal  element  of  Greek  Christianity  that  has  a 
place  in  literature.^ 

It  arose  almost  at  once  in  the  first  half  of  the  fourth  century. 
The  immediate  occasion  for  its  rise  was  the  opposition  of  Arianism. 
Christian  theology,  fitted  by  the  doctors  of  the  preceding  century 
to  deal  with  the  most  difficult  problems,  was  brought  by  the  Arian 
controversy  to  define  its  fundamental  dogma,  the  divinity  of  Christ, 
^ten's  passions  entered  with  their  ideas  into  the  discussion.  The 
world  was  stirredj  men  of  high  character  received  a  moral  shock 
that  brought  into  play  all  the  resources  of  their  genius.  The  Coun- 
cil of  Nicaea  in  325  formulated  the  dogma  of  consubstantiality ;  and 
this  marks  a  date  in  literary,  as  well  as  in  religious,  history. 

The  most  illustrious  defender  of  orthodoxy  in  these  fierce  strug- 
gles was  Athanasius  of  Alexandria.^  Born  in  that  city  about  295, 
he  devoted  himself  while  yet  young  to  the  service  of  the  church. 
A  simple  priest  at  the  Council  of  Xiciea,  whither  he  had  accompa- 
nied his  bishop,  he  already  played,  at  thirty  years  of  age,  a  part 

1  Consult:  Villemain,  U Eloquence  chretienne  an  IV^  siecle. 

2  Edition  in  Mijjne,  Fatrologia  Grccca,  XXV-XXVIII. 


Last  Days  of  Hellenic  Literature  551 

of  the  first  importance.  In  328  he  became  himself  bishop  of  Alex- 
andria. From  that  time  till  his  death,  in  373,  his  life  was  one  of 
incessant  agitation.  Mingling  with  zeal  in  the  struggles  of  the  day, 
he  was  subject  to  their  alternatives  of  fortune,  triumphing  when 
orthodoxy  triumphed,  cast  down  and  proscribed  when  Arianism  had 
the  upper  hand.  Three  times  he  was  exiled  or  obliged  to  flee.  He 
returned  three  times  to  his  metropolis,  where  he  exercised  a  sort  of 
royalty,  owing  to  the  number  and  enthusiasm  of  his  partisans. 
Never  did  party  chief  consecrate  his  energy  more  zealously.  His 
life  was  all  activity  and  combat. 

The  same  is  true  of  his  oratory.  His  principal  writings,  the 
only  ones  we  need  to  notice  here,  are  apologies  or  more  or  less  pas- 
sionate attacks.  We  may  cite  the  Discoxirse  against  the  Gentiles,  a 
work  of  his  youth ;  the  four  Discourses  against  the  Avians,  written  in 
the  desert  between  356  and  361,  while  the  author  was  proscribed ;  the 
Apology  to  the  Emperor  Constantius,  of  the  year  357 ;  his  Apology 
for  the  Flight,  probably  of  358 ;  with  the  Biography  of  Saint  Anthony 
and  the  History  of  the  Avians,  which  seem  to  come  from  the  same  time. 

His  inspiration  is  a  profound,  ardent,  unswerving  orthodoxy. 
Instead  of  broadening,  making  flexible,  and  varying  the  creed,  he 
contracted  it  and  made  it  rigid.  His  activity  tended  to  constitute  a 
formula  so  fixed  and  precise  that  it  excluded  henceforth  all  scope 
for  thought.  In  this  particular  it  resembled  Judaism  more  than 
Greek  philosophy.  Yet  his  theology  was  largely  Platonic  in  origin, 
and  his  dialectic  still  more  so.  His  oratory  followed  the  best  classic 
models.  He  was  a  man  of  skilful  and  strong  eloquence,  proceeding 
always  toward  its  goal.  Without  the  elegant  precision  of  the  Attic 
orators,  he  resembled  them  in  being  preoccupied  with  facts  needing 
explanation  or  theses  needing  proof.  His  language  is  simple,  sound, 
rather  unvaried,  and  moderately  figurative,  but  clear,  and  suited  to 
the  case.  With  commendable  discretion,  it  attracts  little  attention  to 
itself,  but  retiringly  puts  itself  at  the  service  of  the  thought.  Its 
great  defect,  in  common  with  all  Christian  literature,  is  that  of  a 
conglomerate  and  slightly  artificial  language,  in  which  expressions  of 
Biblical  origin  appear  side  by  side  with  others  of  Hellenic  descent, 
without  being  thoroughly  fused. 

9.  The  Cappadocians :  Basil ;  Gregory  of  Nazianzus ;  Gregory  of 
Nyssa.  —  In  Athanasius,  Christian  oratory  reached  its  best.  During 
the  second  half  of  the  century,  it  tended,  in  the  discourses  of  the 
Cappadocians,  to  mingle  with  its  force  a  certain  sweetness,  grace, 
brilliant  elegance,  and  charm.  The  great  Cappadocians  are  Basil 
and  Gregory  of  Nazianzus  —  and  with  them  we  may  associate,  though 
his  rank  is  inferior,  Gregory  of  Nyssa. 


552  Greek  Literature 

Basil/  sometimes  called  the  Great,  was  born  at  Caesarea  in  Cappa- 
docia  in  331.  His  father,  a  Christian,  was  a  teacher  of  rhetoric,  and 
gave  him  his  first  lessons.  He  went  to  Constantinople  and  Athens 
to  complete  his  studies.  Here  he  listened  to  Himerius,  then  at  the 
height  of  his  renown,  and  to  Libanius,  who  was  commencing  his  so- 
phistic career.  He  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  young  Emperor  Julian, 
and  formed  a  close  friendship  with  Gregory  of  Nazianzus,  whom  he 
had  already  known  in  Cappadocia.  From  359  to  364  he  resided  in 
the  Orient,  an  ardent  devotee  of  asceticism.  He  visited  Syria  and 
Egypt  in  order  to  observe  their  forms  of  monastic  life,  and  later 
organized  his  own  monastic  system  in  Pontus.  In  364,  ordained  a 
minister  by  the  bishop  of  Csesarea,  he  became  his  assistant  and 
counsellor ;  and  in  370  succeeded  him.  From  that  time,  as  metro- 
politan of  Cappadocia  and  exarch  of  Pontus,  he  administered  for 
eight  years  an  arduous  sovereignty  amidst  struggles  and  dangers. 
Now  energetic,  now  politic,  he  yielded  or  resisted  according  to  cir- 
cumstances. After  the  death  of  Athanasius,  in  373,  he  became  the 
real  pillar  of  orthodoxy  in  the  Orient.  Worn  out  by  toil,  he  died, 
still  young,  in  379. 

Among  his  writings  the  most  interesting  are  his  Homilies  and 
his  Letters.  Like  Athanasius,  though  to  a  greater  degree,  he  was  an 
orator  by  temperament;  but  as  his  nature  was  richer  and  more  flexi- 
ble, and  his  pagan  education  more  prolonged,  he  had  much  greater 
variety  as  an  orator.  However  diverse  the  forms  of  his  eloquence, 
one  always  finds  it  marked,  on  the  one  hand,  by  easy  erudition  and 
refinement,  and  on  the  other,  by  persuasive  force  and  charm.  These 
latter  qualities  are  due  to  clearness,  ingenious  and  pleasing  inven- 
tion, keen  intelligence,  lively  imagination,  warmth  of  spirit,  and 
natural  propagandism.  Nurtured  on  Greek  philosophy,  particularly 
the  doctrines  of  Plato  and  Plotinus,  he  made  them  serve  him  instead 
of  being  dependent  on  them,  giving  them  dexterously  and  with 
sound  sense  a  Christian  form  of  statement.  He  had  all  the  merits 
of  a  tlieologian ;  and  in  the  most  abstract  matters  he  had  a  truly 
Hellenic  facility  of  expression.  Ikit  it  was  chiefly  in  discourse  that 
his  best  qualities  appeared.  His  Hexahemeron,  a  series  of  familiar 
conversations  on  the  work  of  the  six  days  of  (Jenesis,  has  justly  ])een 
considered  a  masterpiece  of  its  kind.  However  strange  certain 
physical  theories  announced  in  it  may  seem,  the  discourses  have  a 
charm  that  has  never  disappeared.     His  instruction  to  young  people 

^  Edition  in  Migno,  Patr.  (}r(^c.  XXIX-XXXII. 

Consult :  Hardonhcwor,  Hattifol,  nup.  cit. ;  Fialon,  I^Aude  historiqup  et  littp- 
raire  snr  Saint  Basile,  2<l  cd..  Paris,  ISGO  ;  A.  .Tahn,  Baftilins  Plntinizans, 
Berne,  18."W  ;  L.  Koux,  Ktude  aur  la  pri'diration  dr  liasilp  1p  (iraiid,  Stra-ssburg, 
IS-''.?. 


Last  Days  of  Hellenic  Literature  653 

On  the  Reading  of  Profane  Authors  is  a  delicate,  graceful  work,  ani- 
mated with  a  spirit  of  justice  to  antiquity,  though  containing  cer- 
tain narrow  views.  His  moral  discourses  show  a  sincere  spirit, 
ardent  and  generous,  gentle  and  indulgent,  despite  their  vehemence. 
The  collection  of  his  Letters  merits  notice  as  well  for  its  historical 
as  for  its  literary  importance. 

His  style,  though  bearing  the  marks  of  the  time,  is  masterly. 
He  has  good  classic  methods  of  expression  and  they  do  not  hamper 
him ;  his  imitation  is  natural  and  does  not  thwart  the  originality  of 
his  genius.  There  is  nothing  artificial  or  frivolous  in  his  manner. 
Empty  virtuosity  is  absent  from  his  writing.  However  complaisant, 
he  is  at  the  same  time  grave  and  sincere.  Among  the  Christian  writ- 
ers of  his  day,  he  is  one  of  the  simplest,  yet  the  noblest  in  his  sim- 
plicity. 

Gregory  of  Nazianzus^  is  inseparable  from  him,  being  bound  to 
him  by  a  tender  and  unalterable  friendship.  But  they  differed  in 
character  and  in  bent  of  mind.  Basil  was  a  man  of  action,  whom 
solitude  sometimes  charmed  but  could  not  long  retain ;  Gregory  was 
meditative  and  fond  of  the  silent  retreat.  He  sometimes  reluctantly 
devoted  himself  to  action  to  obey  his  conscience,  but  action  soon 
wearied  him. 

Born  near  Nazianzus  in  Cappadocia,  about  338,  he  attended  first 
the  schools  of  Caesarea,  where  he  met  Basil ;  then  those  of  Palestine 
and  Egypt ;  and  finally  those  of  Athens,  where  the  friendship  with 
Basil  was  sealed.  Like  him,  he  learned  there  to  love  the  classic 
poets  and  prose-writers.  After  his  return  to  Cappadocia,  when  he 
was  about  thirty,  he  thought  only  of  living  in  solitude.  At  the  in- 
stance of  his  father,  the  bishop  of  Nazianzus,  he  was  made  priest  in 
301 ;  Basil  made  him  bishop  of  Sasima  in  371 ;  and  three  years  later 
he  succeeded  his  father  in  the  episcopal  chair  of  Nazianzus,  having 
long  been  his  coadjutor.  The  wish  for  retreat  took  possession  of 
him  again  after  another  year,  however;  and  for  four  years  he  lived 
as  a  hermit  at  Seleucia  in  Isauria.  In  379,  the  year  of  Basil's  death, 
an  unexjjected  election  brought  him  to  Constantinople  to  oppose  the 
Arians,  who  were  predominant  there.  Tlie  ecumenical  council  of 
381  had  selected  him  to  occu})y  the  metropolitan  chair.  But  the  elec- 
tion was  contested.  In  discoiiragement,  he  resigned  the  same  year, 
and  returned  to  Nazianzus.  Remaining  two  years,  he  reorganized 
the  Christian  community,  and  then  put  it  again  into  the  hands  of  a 
new  bishop.  He  himself  retired  definitely  from  active  life.  His 
last  years  were  spent  on  his  estate  at  Arriauzus,  where  he  was  born, 
and  where  he  died,  about  390. 

1  Migue,  Fatr.  Grctc.  XXV-XXVIII. 


554  Cfreek  Literature 

His  work  is  composed  of  discourses,  letters,  and  poems.  The  ex- 
tant discourses  number  forty-five.  The  most  important  are  the 
Apology  for  the  Flight  to  Pontus  (probably  written  in  262) ;  the  two  dis- 
courses Against  Julian,  composed  soon  after  the  death  of  the  prince 
who  had  so  long  striven  to  restore  polytheism ;  the  Funeral  Oration 
of  Athanasius  (373);  the  Funeral  Oration  of  Basil  (379);  the  five  Dis- 
courses on  Theology  (379-381) ;  and  the  Farewell  Address,  which  he 
pronounced  on  leaving  Constantinople.  The  Letters  number  two 
hundred  and  forty -three.  Almost  all  belong  to  the  period  of  retreat 
with  which  his  life  was  closed.  They  touch  but  rarely  on  events  of 
the  day,  but  are  interesting  for  the  intimate  knowledge  they  give 
concerning  the  man  himself.  The  Poems  were  likewise  composed 
principally  toward  the  close  of  his  life.  Modern  editors  have  made 
two  groups  of  them :  Theological  Poems  and  Historical  Poems.  The 
former  deals,  as  the  title  indicates,  with  the  religious  problems  dis- 
cussed in  the  circle  of  his  acquaintances  ;  the  latter  with  various 
circumstances  of  his  life. 

Gregory  was  first  of  all  a  recluse,  impressionable,  precise,  and 
highly  introspective.  Hence  the  charm  of  certain  of  his  poems, 
though  they  all  have  too  little  poetic  fire.  jSTotwithstanding  his 
amiable  sincerity,  his  ready  sensibility,  his  charming  imagination, 
he  is  mediocre ;  his  poetry  is  abstract  and  too  much  like  discourse. 
Only  as  an  orator  is  he  incontestably  original. 

His  oratory  is  less  simple  than  that  of  l^asil  and  more  incisive 
and  harmonious.  It  soars  more  and  seeks  more  diligently  to  shine 
with  brilliance.  A  pupil  of  Himerius,  he  kept,  even  as  a  Christian, 
the  liking  of  his  master  for  fine  periods,  antitheses,  and  ingenious, 
brilliant  comparisons.  Whether  consciously  or  not,  there  is  always 
affectation  in  his  art.  He  readily  employs  figures  for  their  effect ;  he 
develops  and  organizes  his  sentence  like  an  artist,  for  the  ear  as  well 
as  for  the  intelligence.  Ample,  easy  discourse  did  not  displease 
him ;  and  sometimes  he  has  more  ornament  than  solidity.  Yet 
under  the  somewhat  artificial  form,  he  has  a  natural  power  which 
it  is  impossible  to  gainsay. 

No  one  could  be  more  sincerely  impressed  than  he  with  the  doc- 
trines and  sentiments  that  he  undertook  to  interpret.  A  Christian 
in  the  depths  of  his  heart,  with  fervent  exaltation,  he  put  lyric  poesy 
into  his  dialectic  unconsciously.  Dogma  and  its  abstractions  did  not 
repel  him  ;  for  he  was  truly  Greek  in  the  subtlety  of  his  intelligence. 
He  was  fond  of  simple,  precise  formulas,  which  would  renew  the  idea 
while  elucidating  it.  Among  his  abstractions,  however,  he  introduced 
a  full  measure  of  the  love  he  had  in  his  heart  and  the  grace  that 
governed  his  imagination.    Natural  enthusiasm  carried  him  high  and 


Last  Days  of  Hellenic  Literature  555 

far.  He  excelled  in  the  ample  development  of  simple  themes.  With 
the  basis  of  thought  remaining  the  same,  he  erected  a  structure  of 
sentiments  and  images  whose  shades  he  never  wearied  of  varying. 

Below  these  two  great  names  must  be  placed  that  of  Basil's 
brother  Gregory,  bishop  of  Nyssa.^  Rather  a  theologian  than  an 
orator  or  a  writer,  he  is  really  important  in  ecclesiastical  history,  but 
less  so  in  the  history  of  literature.  He  was  born  about  340.  In  part 
brought  up  by  Basil,  his  brother,  who  was  ten  years  his  senior,  he 
was  appointed  by  him  to  be  bishop  of  Nyssa  in  Cappadocia.  There 
he  had  to  struggle  energetically  against  the  Arians,  who  even  drove 
him  from  his  seat ;  but  he  returned  in  378.  His  importance  became 
greater  in  the  succeeding  years.  At  the  Council  of  Constantinople, 
in  381,  he  was  one  of  the  most  influential  theologians  in  the  Orient ; 
and  under  the  reign  of  Theodosius  he  continued  to  be  an  authority 
in  matters  of  orthodoxy.  At  length  he  disappeared,  and  we  know 
nothing  of  his  latest  years. 

His  numerous  writings  are  mostly  exegetical.  But  we  have  some 
fifty  discourses  of  his.  Some  are  on  dogma;  most  of  them  treat 
morals ;  and  a  few  are  panegyrics.  The  latter  include  the  Eulogy  of 
Basil  and  the  Eulogy  of  Macrina,  Basil's  sister.  His  reputation  is 
based  principally  on  his  dogmatic  works.  He  is  probably  the  most 
philosophic  theologian  of  the  day,  having  the  greatest  fondness  of 
all  for  research,  and  thinking  most  logically  and  with  the  greatest 
breadth.  He  was  the  most  fertile,  too,  in  original  views.  As  au 
orator,  he  had  the  faults  of  his  time  much  more  than  Basil,  or  even 
Gregory  of  Xazianzus,  as  his  oratory  is  much  less  spontaneous. 

10.  John  Chrysostom.^  —  After  Basil  and  Gregory  of  Nazianzus, 
Christian  oratory  made  no  essential  progress ;  yet  it  grew  more 
abundant,  owing  to  the  character  of  an  exceptional  man,  who  lacked 
none  of  the  gifts  that  mark  an  orator  of  the  first  class. 

John,  later  surnamed  Chrysostom  (Gold-mouth),  was  born  at 
Antioch,  about  345,  and  came  of  a  wealthy  and  estimable  family. 
He  was  reared  by  his  mother,  w^ho  sent  him  to  the  schools  of  his 
native  city.  There  he  studied  philosophy  and  rhetoric,  the  latter 
under  Libanius,  then  the  most  famous  teacher  of  the  Orient.  While 
still  young,  after  gaining  some  success  as  a  lawyer  and  in  society,  he 
was  converted  to  asceticism.     He  studied  theology  with  the  masters 

1  Micne.  Patr.  Greer.  XLIV-XLVI. 

2  Ihul  XLVII-LXIV  ;  Diibiier.  Opera  Selecta,  I,  Paris,  Didot.  1861. 
Consult:  A.  Neander,  Der  heiUf/e  Johannis  Chrijsostnmns  und  die  Kirche, 

Berlin,  1821,  3d  ed.,  1858;  Aug.  Thierry,  Saint  Jran  Chrysostnmc  ft  Plmpe- 
ratrice  Eudoxie,  Paris.  2d  ed.,  1874  ;  A.  Puech,  Saint  Jean  Chrysnstome  et 
les  moeiirs  de  son  temps,  Paris,  18*.tl  ;  the  same,  Saint  Jean  Chrysustom,  Paris, 
Lecoffre,  1899. 


556  Greek  Literature 

of  Antioch,  notably  Diodorus,  then  lived  a  few  years  in  retreat. 
Recalled  in  381,  he  was  ordained  a  priest  in  386;  then  for  ten 
years,  as  a  zealous  collaborator  of  Bishop  Flavianus,  he  acted  as 
minister  of  the  gospel  in  his  native  city  with  constant  success. 
During  this  period,  in  387,  in  connection  with  the  uprising  that 
exposed  Antioch  to  the  anger  of  Theodosius,  he  had  occasion  to 
pronounce  his  most  celebrated  discourses.  In  397  his  renown  had 
spread  far  and  wide,  so  that  Eutropus,  who  then  governed  the  feeble 
Emperor  Arcadius,  secured  his  election  to  the  metropolitan  chair  of 
Constantinople.  This  was  done  to  throw  him  into  the  midst  of 
difficulties  that  should  overwhelm  him.  His  nature,  ardent  even 
to  imprudence,  his  simple,  courageous  persistence,  his  sincerity, 
and  even  his  oratory,  brought  him  into  conflict  with  certain  of  the 
upper  clergy  and  soon  with  the  court.  A  violent  opposition  was 
organized  at  the  instigation  of  Theophilus,  metropolitan  of  Alexan- 
dria, sustained  by  the  Empress  Eudoxia.  John  was  denounced, 
accused,  betrayed,  and  deposed  in  403  by  the  synod  of  bishops,  his 
enemies,  in  the  Conventicle  of  the  Oak,  held  on  an  estate  of  this 
name  near  Chalcedon.  Arcadius  exiled  him;  but  soon  after, 
frightened  by  the  opposition  of  the  people,  and  greatly  disturbed 
by  an  earthquake,  he  recalled  him.  The  exiled  man  returned  in 
triumph ;  but  his  victory  was  of  short  duration.  Some  months 
after,  in  the  same  year,  403,  a  violent  conflict  broke  out  anew 
between  him  and  the  court.  About  the  middle  of  404,  he  was 
seized  by  force  and  carried  into  exile,  this  time  permanently.  For 
three  years  he  was  transferred  from  place  to  place  in  Asia  Minor. 
Finally,  in  407,  worn  out  with  fatigue  and  suffering,  but  neither 
vanquished  nor  discouraged,  he  died,  still  a  prisoner,  at  Comana  in 
Cappadocia. 

The  large  collection  of  his  writings  includes  treatises,  discourses, 
and  letters ;  we  can  give  here  only  an  outline  of  their  nature. 

The  most  celebrated  treatises  are  the  three  books  Aijainst  the 
Adversaries  of  Monastic  Life,  composed  about  375 ;  the  discourses 
of  consolation,  To  Stagyrus,  the  six  books  On  the  Priesthood,  pub- 
lished in  381  and  properly  regarded  as  one  of  his  best  works ;  and 
the  interesting  Essa;/s  which  he  wrote  at  Constantinople  on  various 
points  of  ecclesiastical  discij)line.  The  discourses  include  rather 
numerous  Homilies,  in  which  he  comments  on  texts  of  the  Old  and 
New  Testaments;  and  some  sermons  relative  to  various  events  of 
the  time,  such  as  that  On  the  Statues,  pronounced  at  Antioch  after 
the  uprising,  and  those  which  he  delivered  before  the  people  of 
Constantinople  (On  Eutropus,  in  398,  Before  the  Departure  for  Exile, 
in  403.  and  After  the  Return,  a  few  weeks  later).     His  letters,  two 


Last  Days  of  Hellenic  Literature  657 

hundred  and  thirty-eight  in  number,  almost  all  come  from  the  time 
of  his  exile.  They  show  under  the  noblest  aspect  his  character  as 
an  exile,  equally  incapable  of  yielding  or  of  hatred. 

In  this  immense  work,  he  did  very  little  for  theology  proper,  but 
much  for  morals.  As  a  moralist  and  an  orator,  he  has  his  place  in 
literary  history. 

What  strikes  one  at  first  in  his  oratory  is  the  vivid  representation 
of  the  manners  and  conditions  of  the  time.  No  Christian  orator 
was  in  such  constant  touch  with  reality.  At  Antioch  and  at  Con- 
stantinople, he  never  ceased  to  watch  with  steadfast  look  for  aught 
that  might  stand  in  the  way  of  the  sanctification  he  had  in  view, 
whether  in  the  individual,  the  family,  or  society ;  and  as  his  frank- 
ness equalled  his  insight,  he  told  with  the  liberty  of  an  apostle  all 
that,  with  a  censor's  zeal,  he  had  discovered.  Hence  almost  all  the 
society  of  the  times  lives  in  his  portrayals.  We  see  its  wanton  vices 
assuming  oriental  phases  —  fondness  of  pleasure,  passion  for  games 
aud  spectacles,  love  of  luxury,  the  haughtiness  of  wealth ;  and  we 
discover,  with  no  less  interest,  more  individual  traits,  like  the  frivol- 
ity of  religious  congregations,  the  easy  life  of  certain  members  of 
the  clergy,  the  solicitations  and  intrigues  of  women,  and  the  malev- 
olent stories  that  circulated  even  in  Christian  communities.  His 
bold  and  varied  portrayals  seem  to  be  really  faithful.  The  orator 
evinces  neither  a  fondness  for  exaggerated  expression,  nor  a  seeking 
after  wit.  What  he  says  is  precise :  taking  his  auditors  to  witness, 
he  puts  before  their  eyes  things  which  it  is  their  duty  to  confess. 

But  the  moralist  is  not  content  with  mere  descriptions :  he  rea- 
sons, and  that  with  a  logical  insight  which  is  never  embarrassed  nor 
led  astray.  His  reasoning  is  cogent,  and  his  descriptions  are  precise 
and  striking.  He  divines  men's  pretexts,  analyzes  them,  and  puts 
them  in  their  full  force,  that  he  may  refute  them  more  completely. 
His  search  for  weak  reasons  is  the  occasion  for  the  constant  dis- 
covery of  new  aspects  of  the  subject.  When  he  deals  squarely  with 
an  obstinate  habit,  he  does  not  dismiss  it  before  he  has  shown  all 
its  phases  and  pointed  out  all  its  consequences.  What  he  says  is  so 
simple  that  it  seems  to  arise,  one  might  say,  only  from  good  sense 
and  good  faith.  Yet  on  looking  closer,  one  sees  that,  with  the  good 
sense  and  good  faith,  there  is  delicate  experience,  clear  insight,  and 
wise  prudence ;  and  it  becomes  evident  how  much  his  views  har- 
monize with  one  another.  It  is  true  that,  at  bottom,  his  morals  are 
often  puritanical  and  even  narrow.  But  with  his  exaggeration  of 
asceticism,  it  represents  an  ideal  which  has  wielded  a  strong  in- 
fluence during  and  since  his  time,  and  Avhich  proceeds,  beyond 
doubt,  from  an  admirable  mind. 


558  Greek  Literature 

His  eloquence,  at  any  rate,  commands  our  admiration.  Few  men 
have  shown  an  oratorical  power  so  spontaneous  and  strong ;  yet  few 
have  cultivated  it  more  assiduously.  He  added  education  to  natural 
gifts ;  and  it  brought  into  his  art  the  best  elements  of  classic  culture. 

All  his  discourses  are  remarkable  for  their  argumentation.  Like 
every  great  orator,  he  felt  the  need  and  the  wish  for  demonstration. 
Dialectic  was  in  a  way  the  natural  exercise  of  his  thought.  One  may 
find  sometimes  that  he  misuses  it,  with  a  sort  of  unconscious  display 
of  his  resources,  in  which  is  manifested  the  influence  of  sophistic ; 
but  this  is  exceptional.  Ordinarily  the  arguments  are  sound,  founded 
either  on  the  beliefs  of  the  orator  and  his  public,  or  on  experience 
and  reason ;  and  they  are  produced  with  extraordinary  abundance. 
Every  important  point  is  taken  up  and  the  demonstration  proceeds 
steadily,  along  simple,  direct  routes.  It  shows,  by  the  way,  many 
realistic,  original  qualities.  He  is  the  one  among  the  Christian 
teachers  who  most  completely  freed  homily  from  didactic  tendencies. 
In  him  it  became  a  living  address,  grave,  lofty,  eloquent,  or  familiar 
and  witty.  With  charming  freedom,  it  passes  from  a  lyric  tone  to 
that  of  conversation.  Here  it  is  a  satire  abounding  in  piquant,  play- 
ful allusions  and  even  raillery;  there  it  resembles  the  friendliest 
conversation.  The  demonstration  is  accompanied  by  imagery  and 
sentiment  that  color  it  in  manifold  ways.  The  greatest  merit  of  his 
oratory  is  that  a  truly  Christian  sentiment  warms  it  in  every  part. 

The  final  impression  which  it  leaves  is  rather,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed, that  of  admirable  improvisation  than  that  of  finished  art. 
This  is  the  chief  difference  between  him  and  the  great  classic  writers. 
His  style,  while  being  clear,  animated,  exquisite  in  color,  elegant, 
and  rich  in  images  and  sallies  of  wit,  has  a  tendency  to  diffuseness. 
His  readiness  in  words  makes  him  too  easy  with  himself.  By  vary- 
ing the  expression,  he  seems  to  vary  the  thought,  but  really  repeats 
himself.  His  composition  is  like  his  style.  He  avoids  confusion 
because  his  mind  is  naturally  clear  and  orderly ;  but  the  order  with 
which  he  is  content  is  often  superficial  and  admits  extreme  liberty  in 
detail.  However,  these  defects  should  not  be  too  much  magnified. 
If  he  had  had  more  refined  scruples  of  art,  he  would,  no  doubt,  con- 
sidering the  taste  of  the  time,  have  been  loss  natural  and  sincere. 
As  he  is,  we  may  consider  him,  with  Villemain,  "  the  finest  genius  of 
the  new  society  grafted  upon  the  ancient  world.  He  is  preeminently 
the  Greek  become  a  Christian.''^ 

11.  End  of  Religious  Oratory.  —  One  is  really  surprised  when,  after 
a  period  of  such  brilliance,  religious  oratory  comes  so  quickly  to  an  end. 

^  "  Le  plus  beau  c^nie  de  la  soci^t(5  nouvelle  ent^e  sur  I'ancien  monde.  II 
est  par  excellence  le  Grec  devenu  chr^tien." 


Last  Days  of  Hellenic  Literature  559 

We  have  already  given  the  leading  reasons  why.  After  the  fourth 
century,  Christian  preaching,  far  from  waning,  was  more  and  more 
practised  in  every  part  of  the  Empire.  But  it  had  henceforth  its 
ready-made  themes,  its  commonplaces ;  original  invention  had  less 
importance  in  it  every  day ;  and  the  decadence  of  classical  studies 
was  resulting  in  ever  greater  neglect  of  art.  We  need  not  give  in 
detail  the  story  of  the  decadence.  In  the  fifth  century  there  are 
still  found  names  of  famous  preachers,  Cyril  of  Alexandria  and 
Theodoret.  But  Cyril  was  best  known  as  a  controversialist  and 
Theodoret  as  a  historian  ;  it  would  be  better  to  consider  them  for  an 
instant  in  those  aspects.  With  this  exception,  religious  oratory 
disappeared  from  the  Greek  world. 

12.  Other  Christian  Writers :  Apologists,  Scholars,  and  Historians.  — 
We  have  reserved  this  type  of  composition  and  given  it  the  principal 
place  in  our  account  because  in  it  the  literary  art  of  Greece  principally 
manifested  its  influence  on  the  character  of  Christianity.  The  other 
types  are  not  so  easy  to  distinguish  from  the  history  of  dogma  and 
that  of  political  events.  In  them,  too,  art  has  a  much  less  impor- 
tant place.  Accordingly  we  shall  give  them  here  only  a  summary 
review. 

We  must  go  back  a  little  to  take  up,  at  the  beginning  of  the  fourth 
century,  the  series  of  apologists,  and  to  see  the  series  of  Christian 
historians  from  the  beginning.  The  two  series  come  together  and 
are  fused  at  this  time  in  one  man,  Eusebius  of  Csesarea.^ 

Born  in  Palestine  about  265,  a  devoted  pupil  of  the  scholar 
Pamphilus  whose  name  he  assumed  (EvaifStos  IItt/A<^tAov,  Spiritual  Son 
of  Pamphilus),  he  was  bishop  of  Caesarea  in  Palestine  from  313  till 
his  death  in  340.  As  such,  he  found  himself  forced  to  take  part 
against  his  will  in  the  religious  disputes  of  the  day.  He  was 
naturally  a  scholar,  not  a  man  of  action. 

His  researches  in  the  line  of  chronology  scarcely  belong  to  litera- 
ture, yet  they  have  a  place  in  literature  because  of  the  advantages 
they  secured  for  it.  His  great  work  is  his  Chronica,  a  general  chro- 
nology based  on  a  comparison  of  the  dates  in  Jewish  and  pagan  history. 
A  few  fragments  of  it  have  come  down  in  Greek  ;  but  the  whole  is 
known  through  an  Armenian  translation  and  the  Latin  version  of 
Hieronymous,  who  continued  the  chronicle  through  the  period  from 
325  to  379.  It  is  one  of  the  foundations  upon  which  our  knowledge  of 
dates  is  based  for  a  considerable  part  of  Greek  and  Roman  history. 

1  Migne,  Patr.  Grcec.  XIX-XXIV  ;  Dindorf,  Ilistoria  Ecclesiastica,  Prcepa- 
ratio  Evantjelica,  Dpinonstratio  EvangeUca,  4  vols.,  Leipsic.  Teubner,  1H67-1871; 
Schone,  Chronica,  Berlin,  1875;  Ileinichen,  Scripta  Ilistorica,  3  vols.,  Leipsic, 
18G8-1870. 


560  Greek  Literature 

He  discharged  still  more  completely  the  function  of  a  historian, 
in  the  literary  sense  of  the  word,  by  writing  his  Church  History. 
This  work  we  still  possess.  Its  ten  books  embraced  the  whole  his- 
tory of  Christianity  from  its  beginning  to  323,  the  date  of  Constan- 
tine's  victory  over  Licinius.  From  the  artistic  point  of  view  it  is 
mediocre.  It  has  no  dramatic  representation  of  events,  no  study 
of  the  movement  and  progress  of  thought,  no  vivid  portrayal  of 
character;  and  the  narrative  is  dry  and  incoherent.  But  there  is 
something  novel  in  the  idea  of  considering  Christianity  as  mat- 
ter of  history,  and  that  alone  gives  the  essay  a  merit  which  is 
more  than  documentary.  It  rightly  won  for  him  the  title  of  Father 
of  Ecclesiastical  History. 

We  shall  dismiss  his  numerous  works  of  exegesis,  of  which  little 
remains  ;  but  his  work  as  an  apologist  needs  emphasis.  It  is  repre- 
sented by  two  important  and  well-preserved  treatises,  the  Prepara- 
tion for  the  Gospel  in  fifteen  books  and  the  Demonstration  of  the 
Gospel  in  twenty.  Here,  too,  he  is  no  writer  and  no  dialectician  of 
much  moment.  The  material  of  his  commentary  is  made  up  of  pas- 
sages borrowed  from  ancient  writers  as  well  as  from  the  Sacred 
Books.  The  great  assemblage  of  extracts  was  rather  a  compilation 
than  a  demonstration.  He  showed  little  criticism  in  it.  Yet  in 
breadth  of  view  and  in  wide  acquaintance  with  Hellenism  his  work 
excelled  that  of  previous  apologists.  He  was  more  sympathetic  with 
Greek  culture  than  they,  though  showing  more  the  influence  of  the 
scholars  of  Alexandria. 

After  him  ecclesiastical  history  remained  in  abeyance  for  some 
time.  But  apology  and  controversy  assumed  ever  greater  importance. 
In  the  fourth  century  they  appeared  chiefly  as  oratory  in  the  writ- 
ings of  the  men  we  have  mentioned.  Few  others  have  a  place  in 
literary  history.  We  may  mention,  however,  Cyril  of  Jerusalem 
(315-386  roughly)  for  his  Catechism ;  and  above  all,  the  two  repre- 
sentatives of  the  school  of  Antioch,  Diodorus  of  Tarsus,  who  died  in 
394,  and  his  disciple  Theodorus  of  Mopsueste,  who  lived  from  about 
350  to  428.  In  exegesis,  the  school  of  Antioch  was  opposed  to  that 
of  Alexandria.  Against  the  allegorical  interpretation  contended  for 
by  the  latter,  it  maintained  the  right  of  historical  interpretation, 
and  manifested,  in  brief,  in  matters  of  faith,  an  interesting  rational- 
istic tendency,  which  finally  brought  it  into  conflict  with  orthodoxy. 
Its  last  representative  in  the  fourth  century  is  Epiphanus,  the  sworn 
enemy  of  Origen's  teachings,  and  the  author  of  numerous  works, 
among  which  may  be  cited  the  Treatise  against  Heresies,  a  book  that 
must  l>e  consulted  for  the  history  of  Greek  philosophy. 

In  the  fifth  centurv  Christian  historical  writing  again  came  into 


Last  Days  of  Hellenic  Literature  561 

favor,  though  producing  no  works  of  value.  The  task  begun  by 
Eusebius  made  no  progress  in  the  hands  of  his  successors.  Though 
honest,  estimable,  and  rather  well  informed  as  narrators,  and  mediocre 
as  writers,  they  were  no  more  philosophic  than  he.  Great  events 
did  not  impress  them.  They  saw  neither  remote  causes  nor  distant 
consequences.  All  was  reduced  in  their  view  to  a  series  of  details 
—  problems  of  dogma  and  discipline,  whose  full  meaning,  in  general, 
they  failed  to  see,  and  facts  without  consequence,  such  as  the  pre- 
dominance of  certain  men  and  certain  parties.  The  best  known  in 
the  fifth  century  were  Socrates,  whose  Ecclesiastical  Histoi-y,  continu- 
ing that  of  Eusebius,  extends  to  439 ;  ^  Sozomenos,  a  younger  writer, 
author  of  a  work  of  the  same  title,  covering  almost  the  same  period ;  - 
and  Theodoret,  bishop  of  Cyrrhus,  already  mentioned  as  an  orator.'^ 
His  Ecclesiastical  History,  which  was  composed  about  450,  treats 
the  same  matters  as  those  of  Socrates  and  Sozomenos,  but  seems 
independent  of  both.  In  the  sixth  century,  among  chroniclers  of 
little  importance,  there  is  only  one  name  to  note,  that  of  Evagrius  of 
Epiphania  in  Syria  (from  536  to  about  600).  A  politician,  but  a 
devotee  of  Christianity,  he  also  composed  an  Ecclesiastical  History, 
extending  from  431  to  594 ;  perhaps  he  has  the  least  merit  of  all  the 
secondary  historians  we  have  just  named.  He  closes  the  short  list. 
After  him  the  type,  which  had  never  been  brilliant,  is  lost  in  dry 
and  insignificant  chronicles. 

Exegesis  and  controversy,  however,  appealing  to  more  vigorous 
mental  qualities,  were  better  maintained.  In  the  fifth  century  they 
were  represented  by  two  important  men,  both  of  whom  we  have 
already  named,  Cyril  of  Alexandria  and  Theodoret  of  Cyrrhus. 
Cyril  was  bishop  of  Alexandria  from  412  to  444,  and  devoted  him- 
self most  passionately  to  the  religious  disputes  of  his  time.''  In 
opposing  Nestorianism  in  the  fifth  century,  he  played  a  part  which 
closely  recalls  that  assumed  by  Athanasius  in  the  fourth  in  opposing 
Arianism.  But  his  writings,  though  very  numerous,  have  greater 
theological  than  literary  value.  We  may  name  simply  his  Defence 
of  Christianity  against  Julian.  Six  books,  a  third  of  it,  are  still 
extant.  It  contains  violent  and  sometimes  malevolent  argument, 
but  is  logical,  learned,  always  ingenious,  especially  in  attack,  and 
just,  notwithstanding  some  preconceived  notions,  inasmuch  as  it  does 
not  weaken  objections  for  the  sake  of  triumphing  over  them.     One 

1  Mif^e,  Patr.  Grcec.  LXVTI ;  Hussey.  Soci'ates  Scholasticus,  .3  vols.,  Oxford, 
1853. 

2  Migne,  Patr.  Grrec.  LXVII ;  Hussey,  3  vols.,  Oxford,  18(!0. 

3  Mipne,  Patr.  Greer.  LXXX-LX.XXIV  ;  Sernioiid  et  Gamier,/?.  Theodoreti 
Operd  Omnia,  5  voLs. ,  Paris,  1642-1084. 

*  Migiie,  Patr.  Gnjbc.  LXVIII-LXXVII. 
2o 


562  Greek  Literature 

can  reconstruct  from  it  in  part  the  work  that  it  proposed  to  combat. 
Theodoret,  bishop  of  Cyrrhus  in  northern  Syria  from  423  to  458,  is 
the  last  of  the  great  scholars  of  the  oriental  church.^  A  pupil  in  the 
school  of  Antioch,  he  had  the  tendencies  which  we  have  ascribed 
to  that  school.  We  have  considered  him  among  the  orators  and  his- 
torians of  the  church;  but  his  reputation  is  based  chiefly  on  his 
apologetic  and  exegetical  writings.  We  shall  mention,  among  his 
works,  only  his  Demonstration  from  Hellenic  Philosophy  of  the  Truth 
of  CJiristian  Doctrine  (also  called  Therapeutics  of  Hellenic  Maladies). 
In  it  he  compares  the  views  of  the  Greek  schools  and  those  of  Chris- 
tianity regarding  deep  philosophical  problems.  Neither  here  nor 
elsewhere  does  he  seem  an  original  thinker  or  much  of  a  creator. 
His  merit  is  principally  his  method  and  clearness  in  the  exposition 
of  traditional  ideas. 

Greek  theology  survived,  without  being  renewed,  through  the 
sixth,  seventh,  and  eighth  centuries.  It  ended  with  the  work  of 
John  of  Damascus  (eighth  century),  entitled  the  Source  of  Knoidedge. 
Summing  up,  from  the  point  of  view  of  orthodoxy,  the  scientific  and 
metaphysical  knowledge  appropriate  to  the  needs  of  the  times,  he 
destroyed  both  so  thoroughly  that  no  further  need  was  felt  of  con- 
tributions to  them.  It  is  the  time  of  doom  in  which  the  last  breath 
of  Hellenic  thought  was  to  be  given  up. 

13.  Conclusion.  —  The  literature  which  had  begun  in  Greece  with 
the  little-known  predecessors  of  Homer  thus  reached  its  completion 
in  the  cloisters  of  the  Orient  about  the  time  when  Heraclius  became 
the  champion  of  the  Monothelites  and  saw  his  empire  dismembered 
by  the  Arabs.  In  fact,  almost  all  that  remained  of  the  literature 
after  the  seventh  century  was  concentrated  in  the  hands  of  the 
clergy.  No  form  of  thought  survived  that  was  not  dominated  by 
ecclesiastical  moulds.  All  intellectual  movement  was  circumscribed 
within  the  pale  of  orthodoxy.  There  was  no  longer  any  research, 
no  more  free  soaring  of  imagination,  no  more  philosophy  or  oratory. 
Hellenism  had  ceased  to  exist,  and  Byzantinism  came  to  take  its 
place. 

1  For  bibliography,  see  foot-note  3,  p.  561. 


INDEX 


Thx  Fioubu  KKm  to  Pages.     Titles  of  Works  abb  im  Itauob 


Acad'emy,  Old,  334;  Middle   and   New, 

421. 
Achae'us  of  Ere'tria,  226. 
Achil'les  Ta'tius,  529. 
Actors  iu  tragedy,  176. 
Acusila'us  of  Argos,  160. 
yEgim'ius,  The,  79. 
.^'lian  (Clau'dius  iElia'nus),  526. 
^ne'as  the  Tiictician,  308  f. 
.^neside'mns,  421 ;  474. 
.^s'chines  the  Orator,  382  ff. 
iEs'chines  the  Socratic,  311. 
^s'chylus,  183ff. 
^sop.  152. 

Africa'nus,  Julius,  537. 
Agathar'chides,  433. 
Aga'thias,   historian,   544;   548;  his  An- 

thoiogy,  549. 
Ag'atho,  226  f. 
Alcae'iis,  114. 
Alcida'mas,  282;  368 n. 
Al'cMphron,525;  542. 
Alcman,  125. 

Alexam'enes  of  Teos,  327. 
Alexan'der  of  ^to'lia,  441  f. 
Alexaii'der  Polyhis'tor,  472. 
Alex'is,  395. 

Amazo'nia,  The,  epic  poem,  51. 
Amiiio'nius,  commentator  on  Plato,  546. 
Ammo'nius  Saccas,  532. 
Aniyn'tas,  428. 
Anac'reon,  120. 
Anaoreou'tic  Poems,  122;  549. 
Anaxag'oras,  154;  156;  162. 
Anaxiinan'der,  153;  154. 
Aiiaxim'enes  of  Lami)'sacus,  430. 
Anaxira'enes  t)f  Mile'tus,  153;  154. 
Aiidoc'ides,  351  ff . 
Aiithol'ogies,  the,  4<33. 
Antig'onus  of  Carys'tus,  434. 
Antim'achus  of  Col'ophon,  409;  411  f. 
Anti'ochus  of  Syracuse',  163. 
Autip'ater  of  Thessaloni'ca,  491. 
Antiph'anes,  395. 
Antiph'iliis,  491. 
An'tiphon,  286  flf. 


Antis'thenes,  310  f. 

Anto'nius  Libera'lis,  515. 

An'yte,  443. 

Apha'reus,  227. 

Aphtho'nius,  542. 

A'pio,  482  f. 

Apollodo'rus,     mythographer,    472;     the 

Bihliothe'ca  attributed  to  him,  515. 
Apollodo'rus  of  Carys'tus,  400. 
Apollodo'rus     of     Per'gamon     and    the 

Apollodo'rians,  48<J. 
Apollo'nius  Dys'colus,  529. 
Apollo'nius,  lexicographer,  486. 
Apollo'nius  of  Perga,  437. 
Apollo'nius  of  Rhodes,  457  ff. ;  474. 
Apollo'nius,  son  of  Molo,  474. 
Apol'ogists,  the,  534  f. 
Ap'pian,  508;  510  f. 
Ap'sines,  5130. 

Ara'tus  of  Sic'yon,  historian,  428. 
Ara'tus  of  Soli,  poet,  456 f. 
Arcesila'us,  421  f. 
Ar'chias,  4<)1. 
Arehil'ochus,  94  ff. 
Archime'des,  237. 
Arcti'nus  of  Mile'tus,  54. 
Are'ius  Did'ynuis,  484. 
Aretai'us  of  Cappado'cia,  531. 
Argonau' tlca,  the  Orphic,  548. 
A'rion,  128. 
Aristfen'etus,  542. 
Aristai'us  of  Proconne'sus,  151. 
Aristar'chus  of  Sanios,  astronomer,  436  f. 
Aristar'chus  of  Sain'othrace,  critic,  435  f. ; 

472. 
Aristar'chus  of    Teg'ea,  dramatic    poet, 

220. 
Aris'tias,  171. 
Aristi'des.  iE'lius,  518  f. 
Aristi'des,  apologist,  535. 
Aristi'des  of  Milu'tus,  4;J8. 
Aristip'pus  of  f'yre'ne,  310  f. 
Aris'to,  5;55. 
Aristobu'lus,     historian    of    Alexan'der, 

429. 
Aristobu'lus  the  .Tew,  438. 
Aristoiii'cus,  486. 
Aristoph'anes,  248 ff. 


563 


664 


Index 


Aristoph'anes  of  Byzan'tium,  critic,  435. 

Ar'istotle,  335. 

Aristox'enus  of  Taren'tum,  347;  434;  436. 

Ar'rian,  .">08ff. 

Artemido'rus  of  Eph'esus,  472;  531. 

Ascle'pias  of  Samos,  441 ;  442  f . 

A'sius  of  Samos,  80. 

Astronomy,  The,  of  Hesiod,  72. 

Astyd'amas  the  Elder,  227;  the  Younger, 

227. 
Athana'sins,  .'S.'iO. 
AthensB'us,  530. 
Athenag'oras,  535. 
Atthids,  r/te,  chronicles,  308;  428. 
AtthiK,  The,  poem,  51. 
Atticists,  the,  520. 
At'ticus,  Hero'des,  517. 

B 

Ba'brius,  526  f. 

Bacchyl'ides,  146  ff . 

Bards,  the,  11. 

Basil  of  Cappado'cia,  551  f. 

Batrachomyoma' chia,  The,  57. 

Bemar'chius,  543. 

Bero  sus,  429. 

Beto,  428. 

Bias,  151. 

Bion,  bucolic  poet,  453. 

Bion  the  Borys'thenite,  415. 

Bou'rfony,  The,  80. 

Brouti'nus,  484. 

C 

Cadmus  of  Mile'tus,  160. 

CsBcirins  of  Calac'te,  474;  486  f. ;  489  f. 

Callim'acluis,  4;i5;  441;  455  fif. 

Calli'nus;  !>4. 

Callis'thenes,  4.'X). 

Callis'tratus,  52<). 

Capture  of  II' nun .  The,  54. 

Capture  of  (Echa'lia,  The,  52. 

Carci'nus  of  Naupac'tus,  epic  poet,  79  f. 

Carei'nus,  trafiio  i)oet,  226. 

Carne'ades,  421  f. 

Castor  of  Khcxics,  472. 

Cdtalor/uf  of  Women,  The,  77. 

Cebes,  The  Tablet  of,  484. 

Cclsus,  .")37. 

Cepli'iilas,  Coii'stantine,  549. 

('hierc'moii.  22H. 

Cliame'h'on,  4.'U. 

Chares.  429. 

Char'iton  of  Lamp'safus,  .')29. 

('ha'roii  of  L;uni)'sa<'US.  1()2. 

Chf-r'sias  of  <  )rchom'cnos,  80. 

Cliioiridcs.  2.'<7. 

Chiron.  The  J'rer.rpfs  of,  72. 

(yhoT'llus.  epic  poet,  412  f. 

Choer'ilus,  tragic  poet,  170. 


Choric'ius,  542. 

Chorizon'tes,  the,  47  n. 

Chorus,  the,  of  satyrs,  166 ;  tragic,  181 ; 
comic,  241 ;  246. 

Chrj'sip'pus,  416  f. 

Chrysos'tom,  Dio,  496  flf. 

Chrysos'tom,  John,  555  f. 

Chrysoth'emis,  4. 

Cinaj'thon  of  Lacedae'mon,  79. 

Cine'sias,  407. 

Clean'thes,  416. 

Clement  of  Alexan'dria,  534  ff. 

Clitar'chus,  4.'50. 

Clitode'mus,  308. 

Colu'thus,  548. 

Comedy :  its  origins,  229  ff . ;  the  Mega- 
rian,  231 ;  the  Sicilian,  231 ;  Old  Attic 
Comedy,  beginnings,  236;  character, 
240  ff. ;  disappearance,  2«)3;  Middle  and 
New  Comedy,  392  ff. 

Comos,  the,  229. 

Contests  in  tragedy  in  the  fifth  century, 
172  ff. ;  in  comedy,  237. 

Co  rax,  280. 

Coric'ius,  542. 

Corin'na,  149. 

Corin'thlaca,  The,  of  Eume'lus,  80. 

Cornu'tus,  484. 

Crantor,  i{35. 

Crat'erus,  428. 

Crates,  comic  poet,  240. 

Crates,  head  of  the  Acad'emy,  334  f. 

Crates  of  Mallos,  critic,  435. 

Crates,  the  cynic,  410;  415. 

Crati'nns,  2:58  ff. 

Creophyl'iaiis,  the,  15. 

Crinag'oras,  491. 

Crit'ias:  his  tragedies,  226;  his  elegies, 
409. 

Ctesias,  274  f. 

Cycle,  the  epic,  49  f. 

Cyp'rian  Lays,  The,  55. 

Cyril  of  Alexan'dria,  559;  his  controver- 
sial writings,  561. 

Cyril  of  Jeru'salcm,  .560. 

U 

Dactyls  of  Mowit  Ida,  The,  79. 

Danias'cius,  546. 

Dan'aid,  The,  epic  jwem,  51. 

David  the  Arme'iiian,  547. 

Dein'ades,  'M]\). 

Dciiic'trius  of  Phale'ron,  :?47  ;  390  ff. 

Dcuic'trius  of  Sc(!psis,  428. 

Dcniocirares,  4.'}0. 

Dcnioc'ritus,  275. 

Deinos'thenes,  370  ff. 

Dpsrput  of  Theseus  to  Hades,  The,  79. 

Dt'.xip'pus,  514. 

Dici.'ar'chu.s,  ;?47  :  429;  433. 

Dicelis'tes,  the,  231. 


Index 


565 


Didactic  poetry,  60. 

Did'ymus  Chalcen'terus,  473. 

Diiiar'chus,  3'JO. 

Dio  Cas'sius,  511  ff. 

Dio  Clirysos'tom,  496  ff. 

Diodo'rus  of  Tarsus,  500. 

Diodo'rus  Sic'ulus,  476  ff. 

Diodo'tus  of  ErythnB'a,  428. 

Diog'enes,  Aiito'nius,  528. 

Diog'enes  Laer'tius,  515. 

Diog'enes  of  Apollo'nia,  154;  156. 

Diog'enes  of  Sino'pe,  415. 

Diogne'tus,  428. 

Dionys'ius  of  Alexan'dria,  548. 

Dionys'ius  of  Halicarnas'sus,  474;  478; 
486  ff. 

Dionys'ius,  the  Per'iegete,  527. 

Dionys'ius  Thrax,  473. 

Dioscor'ides,  531. 

Diph'ilus  of  Sino'pe,  400. 

Dithyramb,  the  primitive,  91;  the,  of 
A'rion,  128;  relations  of,  with  tragedy, 
16<3;  the,  in  the  fifth  and  fourth  centu- 
ries, 405  f. 

Divination  by  Birds,  The,  poem,  72. 

Diyl'lus,  4:50. 

Doctors,  the,  5.34  ff. 

Douris  of  Samos,  430. 

Drama  of  satyrs,  the,  170  ff. 


Elegy,  etymology  and  origin,  89;  in  the 
sixth  century,  93 ;  in  the  fifth,  408  f . ; 
Alexandrian,  441  f. 

Emped'ocles,  1.54;  159. 

Encomium,  the  lyric,  132. 

Eoi'x,  The,  77. 

Epli'orus,  .'305  f. 

Epi('har'mus,  231  ff. 

Epic  poetry  (cf.  Homer,  Hesiod,  The 
Epic  Cycle)  :  in  the  fifth  and  fourth 
centuries,  411;  Alexandrian,  4.j(i;  457; 
461 :  in  the  last  days  of  the  Empire,  547. 

Epicte'tus,  4!H  IT. 

Epicu'rus,  418  ff. 

Epig'enus  of  Sicyon,  107. 

Epii/'oni,  The,  cyclic  poem,  54. 

Epigram :  the  Homeric,  57 ;  in  the  sixth 
century,  IIX);  Alexandrian,  442. 

Epimen'ides,  151. 

Epiiiicia:  created  by  Simonides,  137;  cf. 

PiXDAK,  BaCCHYLIDES. 

Epiph'anus.  56(). 
Krasis'tratus,  4'>7. 

Eratos'thenes,  42S:  433  f. ;  435;  461;  402. 
V-p'ia  Kal  'Wfxlpai,  04. 
Eriu'na,  121)  n.  2. 
Ethi'npi'l,  The,  -A. 
Euclid  of  Meg'ara,  philosopher,  310. 
Euclid  the  (ieometer,  430. 
Eude'mus,  347. 


Eugam'mon  of  Cyre'ne,  55. 
Euhem'erus  of  Messi'na,  437  1. 
Eume'lus  of  Corinth,  79. 
Eu'menes  of  Car'dia,  428. 
Eumol'pus,  4. 
Euna'pus,  538;  543. 
Eupho'rion  of  Chalcis,  461. 
Eupho'rion,  son  of  .^Es'chylus,  226. 
Eu'polis,  202. 
Eurip'ides,  211  ff. 
Euro'pia,  The,  80. 
Euse'bius,  5.59  f. 
Evag'rius,  501. 
Eve'nus  of  Faros,  409. 


Favori'nus  of  Arela'te,  507. 

G 

Galen  (Clau'dius  Gale'nus),  531. 

Games,  The  (Ualyvia),  58. 

Golden  Words,  The,  484;  cf.  Hierocles. 

Gor'gias,  281 ;  284. 

Great  Works,  72. 

Greg'ory  of  Nazian'zus,  551  ff. 

Greg'ory  of  Nyssa,  555. 

H 

Ha'drian  of  Tyre,  517. 

Han'nibal  of  Carthage,  428. 

Harpocra'tion,  530. 

Hecatie'us  of  Abde'ra,  437. 

Hecatii3'us  of  Mile'tus,  100;  161  f. 

Hed'ylus,  443. 

Hege'mou  of  Thasos,  410. 

Hege'sias  of  Magne'sia,  427. 

He'gias,  55. 

Heliodo'rus,  writer  on  metres,  480. 

Heliodo'rtis,  writer  of  romance,  528  f. 

Hellani'cus  of  Mitylc'ne,  102. 

Heracle'u,  The,  of  Ciujethon,  80. 

Herac'leid,  The,  anonymous  epic,  52;  cf. 

PiSANUER,    PaXYASIS. 

Heracli'des  of  Pontus,  347;  434. 
Heracli'tus,  153  ff. 
Hermesi'anax,  441  f. 
Iler'mias,  540. 
Ilermip'pus,  410. 
Hermog'enes,  ')'30. 
Hero 'ties  At'ticus,  517. 
Ilcro'dian,  grammarian,  529. 
Ilero'dian,  historian,  511 ;  513  f. 
Hcrod'otus,  2<;.5  ff. 
Hcron'das,  445. 
Hero  of  Alexan'dria,  472. 
Hcs'iod.  02  IT. 
Hcsych'iii.s.  .542. 
Hier'ocles,  54^!. 
Hieroii'yiiius  of  Car'dia,  4.30. 
Hieroph'ilus,  437. 


566 


Index 


Hime'rius,  538  f. 

Hippar'chus  of  Nicic'a,  472. 

Hip'pias  of  Elis,  282 ;  286. 

Hippoc'rates,  276. 

Hipporytus,  oM. 

Hippo'nax,  110. 

History,  its  origins,  150  ff. ;   cf.  the  Lo- 

GOGUAFHEKS,    HERODOTUS,     ThUCYD- 

iDES,  etc. 

Homer:  personality,  10;  The  Iliad  and 
T'iC  Oihjssey,  18  ff. ;  cf.  Cycle,  Epi- 
gram, Epic  Poetry,  Homeric  Hymn. 

Homer'ides,  15. 

Hymene'als,  7 ;  91 ;  cf .  Sappho. 

Hymn,  tlie  primitive,  5;  the  Homeric, 
5();  the  lyric,  of  Stesicliorus,  129; 
Hymn   to  Virtue,  of  Aristotle,  408. 

Hypatia,  545. 

Hyperi'des,  38(5  ff. 

Hyporche'ma,  the,  124;   cf.  Thaletas. 

I 

Iamb,   the :   origins,  89  f. ;   in   the  sixth 

century,    93;    iambic    scazon,   158  f . ; 

cf.  HipPONAX,  Herondas. 
lam'blichns,  Neo-Platonist,  544  f. 
lam'blichus,  writer  of  romance,  528. 
Ib'ycus,  132. 

Iilom'eneus  of  Lamp'sacus,  429. 
Il'iud,  T/te,  19. 
Il'iad,  The  Little,  55. 
Il'ian  Tables,  The,  .50. 
Ion  of  Cliios,  liis  tragedies,  226;  his  prose 

writings,  274. 
I'ophon,  220. 
Irenai'us,  .5.35. 
Isie'us,  Attic  orator,  3.59  ff. 
IsEc'us,   soi)hist    of    the  second    century 

A.D.,  517. 
Isoc' rates,  :305;  :i50;  .%1  ff. 
Istrus,  428. 

J 

•John  of  Damas'cus,  562. 

John  of  Stol)?e'a,  542. 

.Josc'plms,  Fhi'vius,  482  f. 

.Iiiba.  4.S-_'. 

.lu'lian.  541  f. 

•Julius  Scxius  Africa'nus,  537. 

•lust in,  ')'■'>'). 

L 

I.anrprories  of  Athens.  149. 
I.:is.is  of  Hcrini'diic.  US. 
I.uurc'i'tius  Lyilus.  .Idlin,  544. 
I.i'iai'i'las  nf  Taren'iuin,  442  f . ;  491. 
Lrsrh.s.  .-.-,. 
I..Micij.pus,  l.-.l:  275. 
I.iba'niu-,  .".'IS  IT- 
Linus,  4;   l.-,l. 


Logog'raphers,  historical,  159  f. 

Logog'raphers,  oratorical,  355. 

LoUia'nus,  517. 

Longi'nus,  490;  530. 

Longus,  529. 

Lucian,  519  ff. 

Lucius  of  Patras',  521. 

Lyce'um,  the,  Ml. 

Ly'cophron,  4()0. 

Lycur'gus,  orator,  388  ff. 

Lyric  poetry,  general  character,  82  ff. ; 

chief  types,  90  ff. 
Lys'ias,  353  ff. 

M 

Macedo'nius,  548. 

Ma)son,  231. 

Magnes,  238. 

^lal'alas,  John,  544. 

Malchns,  543. 

Maii'etho,  429. 

Marcus  Aure'lius,  507  f. 

Maryi'tes,  The,  57. 

Mdi-riuye  of  Peleus  and  Thetis,  The,  79. 

Max'imus  of  Tyre,  518  f. 

Me7d\a"E/37a,  The,  72. 

Megas'tlienes,  430. 

Melam'pody,  The,  79. 

Melanip'pides,  407. 

:\Ielan 'thins,  22(). 

iMelea'ger  of  Gad'ara,  4<)2  f. 

iMelic  poetry,  in  the   seventh   and   sixth 

centuries.  111;  in  the  fifth  and  fourtli 

centuries,  405  f. 
iMelis'sus,  158  f. 

Menan'der.  comic  poet,  392;  397;  401  IT. 
iMenan'der,  historian,  545. 
iMenan'd(>r,  rlietorician,  5'M. 
iMcn'ecles,  474. 
Menede'mns  of  Ere'tria,  311. 
^lenip'pns  of   Gad'ara,  415;    The  Menip- 

pe'an  Satires  of  Varro,  415. 
Mesome'des,  .548. 
]Met!u)'dius,  537. 
-Metrodo'rus  of  Scepsis,  472. 
Mile'xian  Tales,  The,  528. 
^Nlilti'ades,  .535. 

Mime,  an  anonymous,  444  n.  3. 
iMime,  tlie,  of  Herondas,  444  f. 
Minu',  tlie  Sicil'ian,  235. 
Mimner'mus,  100. 
Mill' yad,  The,  51 . 
Modera'tus  of  Gados,  484. 
Molo,  474. 
Mor'sinius,  226. 
•Mos'chion,  22(). 
Miiscliiis,  45.3. 

Musa'us  of  Thrace,  4;  151. 
Musa^'us,    poet    of    the    Roman    period, 

r.i'.i. 

Muse'um,  the,  of  Alexandria.  4l'4. 


Index 


567 


Muso'nius,  Ru'fus,  C,  484. 
Myllus,  231. 
Myrto,  138. 
Mystic  poetry,  151. 

N 

Naupac'tian  Lays,  The,  80. 

Near'chus.  430. 

Ne'ophrou,  226. 

Nesto'rius,  546. 

Nican'der  of  Col'ophon,  462. 

Nit-e'tes  of  Smyrna,  517. 

Nich'ola.s  of  Danias'cus,  481. 

Nicom'achus  of  Ger'asa,  531. 

Nome:    the  primitive,   87;    the,   of    the 

fifth  centurj',  405. 
Nounus,  547. 
Nosti,  The,  poem,  55. 

O 

Oaris'tys,  TJie,  453. 

Ocel'lus  of  Luca'nia,  484. 

Od'yssey,  The,  33  ff. 

(EdipoiU'a,  The,  54;    The,  of  Cinaethon, 

80. 
OLnoma'us  of  Gad'ara,  532. 
Olen.  4. 

Olympiodo'rus,  historian,  543. 
Olymiiiodo'riis,  Xeo-Platonist,  546. 
Olymp'us,  87. 
Onesii.-'ritus,  429. 
Op'pian.  526  f. 
Or'igen,  o'iC>  f. 
Ori'on,  .542. 
Orplieus,  4:  151. 
Orphic  poems,  548. 
Orphism,  151. 


P»an,  the,  124. 

nai7i'ta,  the,  57. 

Pal'atiiie  Anthol'ofry,  the,  548. 

ram'pliila,  4S2. 

I'am'pliilus,  .uramniarian,  4.%. 

I'am'j)Iiihis  of  (';fsare'a,  537. 

Famphus.  4. 

Paiia;'tius,  47-. 

Pany'asis,  411. 

P.'umeii'ides  of  Ele'a,  154. 

Parody.  410. 

Parthe'iiion,  tlu',  125. 

I'arthe'nius  of  Nic:e'a,  462. 

Paul  the  Htrmit,  548. 

Pansa'uia^.  514  f. 

Por'icles,  27',». 

Pericgetes.  the,  4.3.3. 

Pli?edo  of  Elis,  310. 

Phallic  Cliants,  220, 

Plialloph'ures.  2.31. 

Phan'ock'S.  441  f. 


Phanode'mus,  308. 
Pherecra'tes,  240. 
Pherecj-'iies  of  Leros,  162. 
Pherecy'des  of  Syros,  153. 
Phile'mon,  392  ;  397;  400  f. 
Phile'tas,  441. 
Phili'nus.  4:50. 

Philip  of  Tliessaloni'ca,  490;  549. 
Philis'tioii,  491. 

Phiiis'tus,  ;m. 

PhiJoch'orus,  428  bis. 

Phil'ocles,  226. 

Philode'mus,  473  f, 

Philo  of  Byzan'tium,  4.37. 

Philo  the  Jew,  485  f . ;  .536, 

Philos'trati,  the,  .517;  518;  525  f. 

Philox'emis  of  Cythe'ra,  407  f. 

Pho'ceid,  The,  51, 

Pho'cion,  .309. 

Phocyl'ides,  108. 

Phcuham'mon,  4. 

Phormis  (Phormu.s),  2.32. 

Phryn'ichus,  comic  poet,  263. 

Phryn'ichus,  the  Atticist,  5.30. 

Phryn'ichus,  tragic  poet,  170. 

Phrynis,  407, 

Phylar'chus,  430. 

Pigres,  .58. 

Pindar,  137  if. 

Pisan'der  of  Rhodes,  56. 

Pit'tacus,  151. 

Planu'dcs,  .549. 

Plato,  comic  poet,  263. 

Plato,  philosopher,  .321  if. 

Ploti'nus,  475  ;  ."32  ff. 

Plutarch.  Neo-Platonist.  546. 

Plutarch  of  Chitrone'a,  498  ff, 

Poremo,  pliilosopher,  334  f, 

Pol'emo,  sophist,  517. 

Pol'emo.  the  Per'iegete,  433. 

Pollux,  5;M). 

Pc)lya_''nus.  515. 

Polyb'ius,  4()5  ff. 

Porch,  the,  416  n.  1. 

Por'phyry.  475;  5.32  ff. 

Posidip'pus,  epigrammatist,  443, 

Pdsidip'pus  of  Cassandre'a,  400, 

Posidi)'iiius,  473. 

Prat'inas,  170  f. 

Pra.\'ag'i)ras,  543. 

Preci'ptti  of  t'/<i)'on,  The.  72. 

Priscus.  ,">4.'>. 

Prochis,    Nco-Platonist,    54()f, ;     Proclus 

and  iIh'  E]i!c  Cj'cle,  .50. 
Proco'pius,  54:i  f. 
Pn.d'icus  of  Ccos,  2S2 ;  2.S,5. 
Pri)tag'<>ras,  2S2 :  2S3. 
Ptoremy   (Clau'diiis    Ptolem.x-'us),    geog- 

raplicr,  ,")M1. 
Ptol'eniy  .Scjter,  historian  of  AlexanMer, 

427  f. 


568 


Index 


Pyrrho,  420  f . 

Pyrrhus,  king  of  Epi'rus,  428. 
I^thag'oras,  154. 
Pythagore'au  Renaissance,  484. 
Pyth'eas,  geographer,  433. 

Q 
Quadra'tus,  535. 
Quintus  of  Smyrna,  547. 

R 

Returm,  The,  55. 

Rhapsodists,  52. 

Rhesus,  The,  228. 

Rhetoric  of  Sicily,  the,  280  f, 

Rhi'anus,  4(51. 

Rhin'thon,  444. 

Romance,  the,  527;  cf.  Milesian  Tales. 

Rufus  of  Eph'esus,  531. 


Sapplio,  116  flf. 

Satyr-drama,  the,  170  ff. 

Sceptic  School,  the,  420  f. 

Schools   of    Theology' :    at    Alexan'dria, 

5()0;  at  Aii'tioch,  560;  cf.  Clement, 

Origen. 
Scolia:    origins,    113;    in    the    fifth  and 

fourth  centuries,  408  f. 
Scope'lian,  517. 
Scopeli'nus,  1.38. 
Scylax  of  Caryan'da,  160. 
Scymnus  of  Chios,  433. 
Seven  Sages,  the,  151. 
Sex'tii,  the  two,  484. 
Sextus  Africa'nus,  Julius,  537. 
Sextus  Empir'icus,  532. 
Shield  of  Her'acles,  The,  77. 
Sih'ylUnc  Books,  The,  548. 
Sicilian  rhetoric,  2.S0  f. 
Sim'niias,  443. 

Simocat'tes,  Theophylac'tus,  544. 
Siiiion'ides  of  Amor'gus,  'J7. 
Simoii'ides  of  Ceos,  133  ff. 
Simplic'ius,  546. 
Soc'rates,  historian,  561. 
Soc'rates,  philosoplier,  2iX)  ff. 
Solon,  101  ff. 

Soph'istry,  the  Old,  281 ;  the  New,  515. 
.Soph'ocles,  1!h;  ff. 
Sophron,  23,5  f. 
So'ranus,  .531. 
Sosili'ius,  428. 
So'syliis,  4.'J0. 
So'tades,  444. 
Soter'ifluis  of  O'asis,  547. 
So'tion  of  Alexan'dria.  4'54;  484. 
So'tion,  Pythagore'an,  484. 
Soznm'enus,  .561. 
Sjxiusip'pus,  3.'i4  f. 


Stasi'nns,  55. 

Stephen  of  Byzan'tiam,  544. 

Stesich'orus,  129.. 

Stesim'brotus  of  Thasos,  286. 

Stilpo  of  Meg'ara,  415. 

Stobai'us  (John  of  Stobae'a),  542. 

Stoicism,  416  ff. 

Strabo,  478  ff. 

Strato,  anthologist,  549. 

Strato  of  Lamp'sacus.  347. 

Sublime,  Treatise  on  the,  490. 

Susa'rion,  231. 

Syne 'si  us,  545. 

Syria'uus,  546. 


Ta'tian,  535. 

Teleg'ony,  The,  55. 

Terpan'der,  87 ;  113. 

Thales,  151 ;  153. 

Thale'tas,  124. 

Tham'yris,  4. 

Theatre,  construction  of  the,  174  f. 

Theba'id,  The,  cyclic  poem,  54;   cf.  An- 

TIMACHUS. 

Themis'tius,  538  f. 

Theinis'tocles,  279. 

Theoc'ritus,  445  ff. 

Theodec'tes  of  Phase'lis,  227. 

Theod'oret,  559;  his  Ecclesiastical  His- 
tory, 561;  his  apologetic  writings, 
.5<j2. 

Theodo'rus  of  Byzan'tium,  rhetorician, 
a51. 

Theodo'rus  of  Cyre'ne,  philo.sopher,  415. 

Theodo'rus  of  Gad'ara  and  the  Theodo'- 
rians,  486. 

Theodo'rus  of  Mopsues'te,  560. 

Theog'nis,  105. 

Theof/'ony,  the  Hesiodic,  72  ff. 

Theof/'ony,  the  Orphic,  548. 

Thoo,  grammarian,  48(5. 

Theoph'ilus  of  Antioch,  .5.35. 

Theophras'tus,  .347  f . ;  434. 

Tht'fiponi'pus.  .'<0()  ff. 

T)ie'seid,  The,  52. 

Thespis,  167  ff. :  173. 

Thrasym'achus  of  Chalce'don,  .351. 

Thren'ody,  the,  7;  91. 

Tluicyd'ides,  29.5  ff. 

Timiii'us  of  Lo'cris,  484. 

Tima-'usof  Taurome'nium,  427  ;  429;  431  f. 

Timoc'reon  of  Rhodes,  148. 

Timon  the  Sinograph,  420. 

Timos'tlienes.  4H.3. 

Timo'theus  of  Mile'tus,  407  f. 

Tis'ias,  2.S(). 

Titanom'achy,  The,  80. 

Tragedy:  origins.  l'>4  ff . ;  structure, 
177  ff. ;  contests,  172  ff. 


Index 


569 


Tryphiodo'rus,  548. 
Tyn'riichus  of  Chalcis,  149. 
Tyrra'nii),  473. 
TyrtiK'us,  98. 

W 

Works  and  Days,  The,  of  Hesiod,  64  ff. 
Writing:  its  origins,  150. 


Xanthus  of  Lyd'ia,  162. 
Xeuar'chus,  writer  of  mimes,  235. 


Xenoc'rates,  philosopher,  334  f. 
Xenoc'rates,  physician,  531. 
Xenoph'aues,  154;  157. 
Xen'ophon  of  Athens,  305;  311  ff. 
Xen'ophon  of  Eph'esus,  528. 


Zenod'otus  of  Eph'esus,  495;   the    "Cy- 
cle "  of  Zenodotus,  50. 
Zeno  of  Ele'a,  158  f . ;  327. 
Zeno  of  Cit'ium,  416. 
Zo'simus,  543. 


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